is it copper or satin?
i told myself
this would never happen.
a guard in armor
stood before the lock,
now gone.
is it copper or satin,
the contours of skin?
i lay my weaponry
at the feet of the one
who tamed all dragons
and laid the Romans to rest,
the crest of Vulcan on the breast.
or maybe Neptune?
i spent the summer in June.
god, the fabric i cannot discern.
a windstorm at noon?
please tell me, losing sleep.
the way the light hits
in copper-satin waves.
it breaks.