art is what we made that night
the moon clinging to your ceiling
mediating between crescent and full
shadows        
splayed around our shoulders
release was the sheets tossed aside
the emptiness of your loft
seemingly brimming
there was no headboard from which to shake the dust
but we sounded through
moaning between sepias
sweating between echoes

I would love to capture you someday
to remove these moments from the dark room
and add them to a collection
as something to truly admire