The Sanguine Book

The space between

the text

that shapes

the differentiating

stories of these lives,

gone.

 .

Some say the destruction

is crazy.

I say it is a foregone

conclusion,

 .

and the chaos

in the letters

is more truth

 .

than fiction.

 .

These moments were

lost

 .

hiding behind

indecipherable fonts,

 .

pictograms of letters

exclaiming

 .

the nature of our pleasure

and our pain.

 .

This shape is the time

we bore the burden

of pushing

your Mazda

up Mount Hood.

 .

The eve

of our sacrificial

matrimony.

 .

At the same moment

your dad careened

into the other

lane. Our hearts,

 .

screamed, slicing

pictograms open, creating

new syllables, new words

never

 .

before heard.

 .

That evening the dusk

was sanguine

and the cascading

words

 .

and keystrokes

of our biographies

bled red.

 .

These stories

are no longer

separated by logic

or sense.

 .

They have bled together.

 .

Though the breadth

can only

be found in severed text,

broken syllables.

 .

images of words

draining

 .

like a severed

artery

out into the

snow

 of Mount Hood.