"a muse"
so many things
could happen she says smoke
plumes grey blue and silver
to night black
the shadows reach as empty blobs
cast of artificial light because
our moon is translucent
and gauzed
so many things
can't happen I inhale half the fire
she offers I will never see you
orange in morning light so soft
it smothers the breath of longing
can't happen I inhale half the fire
she offers I will never see you
rising pointed full as white sheets fall
from you moving, searing
to burn all the air from even my lungs
can't happen I inhale half the fire
she offers I will never see you
stepping over me flat-palmed
to knead my spine as
pleasure beads in a convent
can't happen I inhale half the fire
she offers I will never hear you
say promise me you will never
hate me for this passing love
again
so many things
happen
-TW
