In August
Shadow of Janus by Lewis Whittington

The realms of false sky, descending.
upon the metrolights

Hearing the godless
Gods and goddesses
Liars and demons
Souls and the soulless
Blur along the street
Where there is no darkness unseen
No stillness unnoticed
Or forbidden thought forgotten
On these lost paths
I hear Mercury keeping vigil along
The promontory
Igniting the arrowheads,
Brushing his temples
Eyes fixed,
body ready for flight,
‘Let’s go’ he
Says, ‘for we are the hunted now.’
Ice basilica
At daybreak and
The running flame
That consumes
The haze
Opened to the sudden shade
Pulling away
The corrupt prayers uttered before
The vanished armor
Offering smoke
And it is just in that
Hour, That I know there are no secrets
Unveiled onto this night
Discovered galaxies are
Noticed for a moment then
Passed away from
The moons
So barren that skin and bone
Feel the same
And emotion is
a remembrance of another life
Or dying star
Foretold by Mercury
Heathen and Virgo
In the afterburn
I hear them confide
‘What chance.’
I wired Scorpio
So couldn’t
Break the code to
Mean nothing past that moment
To record the laughter at the
Eclipse over Jerusalem.
Silhouettes arch
on the waters
With flights
Of firebirds and
Of deaths
Told in the fanfares of Tatarus
In this music field
Of disgraced tones
Invites a coarser rhythm
I called
‘not a word, Terpsichore.”
The assault
Beats down over
What existed again but not before
And when the music enters
The body
It digs up
An infinite
To be met with ideas and peace
Waiting to be lived
By havoc and adornment
Waiting to die and
This is the water music we feel
I see Janus
Vanished at horizon
Shielding us
From home.

For Jack Nespoli