walking with you
turned fields
into prairies
scars like lips sewn shut
kiss without tongue
the susurrus
of your lost
long song
the smoke
of my soul
lamps wore away
at the dark
a gate
spills the garden
into the street
the tear
of the candle flame
sharpened
like a sable brush
pinched to a point
by the lips
of the sky
that refuses
to let it fall
the column
of its body
turns clear
before the soft chorus
of smoke
pulled
from its scorched
throat
to know light from my pages
reflected into your face
sunk into the sea glass of your eyes
to know light from your face
snowed blossom into the dark
of my words
replaced my heartbeat
with the syllables of your name
stories to temper steel to
when the story falls silent
the folds folded
asleep inside the blade
words brighter
than the paper
they scar
worn away with waking
in perpetual twilight
slow as dream time
you’re the last light of the year
the late light of the day
that touches the old fire
that still clings to the tips of the trees
in my haunted park
curtains wait for a breeze
so they can breathe again