I feel your hands in the dark,
Half an embrace before daybreak, and then we both sink back into inkblack silk.
I trace constellations on the othersides of my eyelids,
The thousand faces of this faith,
And rest easy.
I’ve spent a winter starving,
I’m all teeth and tongue and hungry eyes,
Coiling as a bed of snakes you can sink into.
Sometimes, I see the air quiver about you,
Like hot days over tarry pavement;
And I know how fires start in the wild.