Poetry

The nephrite syndrome. 
I will not change the― 
calculus, to find the truth 
of the flesh. 
 
The paid price of chemistry 
will make history. If 
you can stop the blitz― 
of the replicas. 
 
It ends like a fire, without 
ashes. The limbs check 
the fall. Across the river 
an isle erupts. 
 
The prisoner at last escapes, 
from the procession of profanities. 
You are finally liberated, 
releasing the lost poem.