Drawing breaths you left

Automatic market bombs going off around us. Figments of fragments gone, descending from the throne. Sour times and weather falling. An old man casually sloping towards us. Saturn swinging his scythe. Rockets return to their roost. Waves break on the dam. The herons all have fallen. Crows creep in to take their place. Mackerel are spawning. The fusion of lies with regret. Red hair streaked with blood. I am a sorrowful sawing. I lay awake cold winters’ nights, drawing breaths you left.