You correspond to the night.
Effacing, like the mirage-gray wings of an angel
Obscure the stage of my prayers in tongue, a perjury of
Mine lesser than yours;
Which is a forgiveness born of amnesia
Swaddled in thin linen sheets
Offering no warmth. I’d forswear the ritual

Of mascara to delineate 100 filaments to exalt your image.
Mirrored in my eye, the copy lies in a shallow impression.
As an afterthought leave your delible shadow.
I’ll borrow its black for these tears that stain,
100 claws that catch my skin in your wake. Faith ends with me

-On my knees to conjure you, like a hound at a fence exceeding it.
Hermetic as lips of an overfed mouth, and
Slippery as dreams which evaporate when
Distilled by light. Is it weightless?
The sun injures me with attention. Day breaks like glass,
Coming over me at great altitude;
You correspond to the morning.