On a somber night, save Selene's
silver light, dripping as it fell
from the fingertips of skeletal boughs
scant with shriveled things, I buried
myself beneath the clay of the earth
to find myself beside the dust and
emptiness of your bones. Hesitantly,
I touched the scarred maple of your
body, my voice rising up from inside
me, evanescent as it bubbled out
of my throat and into the chilly
grasp of the dreary night sky. I caught
myself gasping, my hand drawn back
to the warmth of my breast, shivering
not from the cold bleeding through
the layers of animals' skins I'd
draped abroad but in fear as
you stirred below me, restless
and waiting. I laid myself beside
you, and there we dreamt alone
of wonderful and frightful things,
soaring over the Serengeti,
diving deep into the trenches
of the Pacific, slipping through
the luminesce of flashlight fish,
climbing to the crest of Kibo,
Mawenzi and Shira, high into the
emptiness of the universe,
falling madly into the hole
at the center of the Black Eye.
And it was there, our heavy spirits
crushed under the enormous burden
of the cosmos, where our fingers
entwined - the milky warmth
of your flesh against the brittle
and the staggering of my bones.
For a moment, in that exchange,
I gave up everything, offering up
the untouched parts of my body,
leaving only the residue of plague
clogging the chambers of my heart.
I opened my mouth and a great
mist of locusts blossomed from
the pink of my lips, a viscid rancor
slick on my legs as you lifted
your wings and, with a single beat,
rose up from this lump in our
chests and left me.
In the distance I could make the
faint whisper of sirens, wisps of
men as they encircled me and lifted
me into the sterile light. I have
had too much water already. Do not
shed tears for me.