A ferry tracks across the sunset bay, Its carmine a reflection of the flame That curls, hissing through the nerves to the blood in abandon. An angel of

Darkness spreads her cloak over Taut strings of bridges, and the glassy Shells of half-lit towers. Reflections of Gloaming in the rain puddled avenues Gleam like freshly hacked wounds.

Memory's hunger feeds on this landscape, in which Adrienne once moved, And through which the heart now, Stops and moves, and moves and stops, An ashen coal cradling fire in its arms.