Impossible Scarlet

In the sudden spring of a fallen world, 

cities rise and fall like the white flakes 

of apple blossoms, prone to forbidden 

joy. The air is almost sweet with a whiff 

of rot as you lie next to me in a seaside 

park next to Golden Horn. A red sunset 

bleeds into your eyes, turquoise as water. 

We are on the edge of a fall, but you hold 

my hands like you hold the horns of an animal 

dying of passion before an impossible scarlet sky.