they hide in their graves next mooncycle,
            joining hands in the dark. these

lithe creatures splashing ages water on
            buzzcut heads. these outlined ancestors

observed by your successors through a hologram
            mired in sores. ancestors at a distance,

modern globes facing the presence
            of bullet eyes. distance prompts your invitation,

your folded palms amid frothed cream clouds,
            brazen contours set quietly ablaze. an invitation for the stars,

cherub-cheeked, plum-fingered children grabpple with
            tracing figures. starry night sky brings dying suns,

history obscured between a phase of mortality and tracing paper.