the stillness is falling
stretching
window to window
beneath the frog leaps
innocence
at the end of the wick
children used to play here
choked down
and full of lonely
sent by cave paintings
and fallen priests
bleeding
perhaps breathing
my princess used to pretend
baptized in black oil
a haunting
a hidden roar
between our skin
handwritten
in the raw mixture
now, we listen for the howl