twirling down the hall
in indian cotton
dusk pink.

with the celerity of
a summer storm
i get older,
younger.

the large yellow moon
hangs itself in the sky,
spilling all the light
this side of earth,
across a satin sea.

i met you on that horizon once; that drop between the known & the feared, the line that resigns daydream from knowledge, that delegates head over heart, heart over head. we saw the world against the galaxy, we saw the static of the stars, we were specks of dust along the fabric of eternity. i lost you on that horizon.

the whole night long i listened for the sound of leather dragging across floorboards, the sound so exposed, so important for all its implications.

((i wore bells on my ankles but my fingers were bare))

just let me be;
i'm a narrative enough
without you to divide me.