Poetry

Find an auspice today. 
The moon was coming back 
after an abdication. 
 
Lurching on cobblestoned stretch 
of blue-black clouds; paring 
the tall conical trees of 
royal pines. 
 
Heaped with roses, a man 
with no-war slogan, lies 
in the open earth. 
 
You will not perceive― 
any smell of smouldering pen and knives. 
 
The body turns without 
a comma.