all heads throb
as
         a
papered-up-shop-window moon
decomposes without much commentary

the stars are out :
sight-hounding for mortals
to dine
upon

and i sit,
belly-full, and heart-hungry :
hoping to
*****

just past shadow dance
and the puppet theater of her ember ring

[i am the branch breaking in the dark ]

in her dark
in HER dark

i step.

success
is a measure
of pleasures

Than grabbing


each other’s wrists

i find myself
again, in that plaster hallway
upon
those salt-beaten steps
and the home i’d lost, returns to me
not in molecules. but in fragmented lights.
she fills
me

wrists
will remain
where placed
despite any attempts to the contrary .

each other’s wrists
and the pull towards something.