Titan Poem by Peter Black

Call on the bitter winds that blow
Your loved one's voice in from the cold;
Suck on memories in tobacco smoke
And taste loss in pine tar.

I have not gone so far
From pleasant weather in the blue bliss
Of summer showering in crystal mist,
Cooling sweat, putting dreams in eyes,
Calling on forceful thrusts and open lips;
Before the dust,
Of myself and years.

But now my skin peals
Off in layers, breaks off in chunks
And mixes into Titan's dusts.

Call out for your lover
Say that name to space and time.
Whisper, 'Hopes become dust.'