She stopped to look at the flower
so that we would stop
to look at her
looking at the flower.

her voice
bent me
backwards
over the
bedsheets
every
syllable
spinning silk
into sea
as she drew
the breath
from my ears
and a symphony
from my lips
she turned my
twin bed
into titanic
along with me
and as I was
drowning
she was speaking
poetry

fading,
still nameless and splendid,
his eyes were open to
the lamp and the shadows.

"depart from the night"
he said to the infinity beneath
the dark demanding
absolution anyways.

the boy in his bones
screams at ravens
on a scarecrow in a
snow covered corn field.

time elapsed.

the man in his head is kneeling,
always kneeling.