rooms lit by storms
and midnight snow
I think of the wish
whispered
into a wine bottle
at the end of a party
I wonder
when will it break
be set free
granted
will it be
when you most
need it
when your life
in more pieces
than the glass
than sand
you are the stained light
staining the stone
the church ceiling
crumbled into cabbage whites
shadows shattered
into black butterflies
rings made from rainfall
a blizzard of butterflies
in another field
skylarks sleep
wings taking root
in the earth
you were the wren
that led me
through the reeds
that stroked my sides
feathered my face
silver poplars shiver
with the echo of light
wind gathers in the trees
I don’t think about the thorns
I think about the blackberries
of your love
how they reveal the labyrinths
of my fingerprints
that touches the dark
trying to find your face
just before the kiss
push me back into the world
like ghosts do
when the living get too close
the scent of skin
too much
they push away
because they long too much
for what they’ve lost
they want you too stay
in the world
you because
you don’t want to hold
what will be lost
stilled by all the sunlight
held in your skin
miss the sea glass
crumbling sunlight
in your eyes
knowing fire
through the smoke
of your songs
the tantrums
of your tenderness
how your steps
slowed
to match mine
the white of a waterfall
the moon hiding half its face
the ones
who hollow you out
leave a cave
for another
to place
a candle in