I will crawl through the soft

Trail where the night kicks long

On the underside of limbs, the branches

Of these cotton woods are tired

From the weight of every morning.

The air thickens without buoyancy.

I would dream any dream of you.

You are a dark spot in my eye, a stain

Sliding ahead of my vision.  Where are

You when I can’t feel your hand on my

Cheek.  When the silence presses deeper

Into my hands than these beads.  Is it faith

That rubbed the effigy of a god faceless?

Impale me to your breast, a blunt

Instrument helpless in the shear force

Of desire.  Fingers clutching at the hilt,

To hold to home, to see it clear of

Fading charms.  A point connecting two

Infinities.  The shrike sings for the gift.

All my life this constant sky never

Blinked.  For a lace with no water

Every door is rusted closed, what can I

Want that you might give?  Is it tragedy

That in death you finally blot out the sun

Long enough for it to be considered shade?

I can finally see the tripwire horizon

For what it is.

.