June 28, 2022 12:21PM

I wonder

how you are

as I crane my neck up

towards the stars

like antennas blinking red lights

and there, blinking back at me,

is that bright blue one

you had pointed out

with those frail fingers of yours

calloused and shelled

from tours done by the hands of stick insects

around, around, around

circling tree rings

molded fit for our necks to look out from

slowly dyeing our skin lavender

and windpipes rose

from some slow swan song

am I still in your mind?

a razored sliver hanging off burnt ends

of nerves, slowly being whisked away

by the fanged winds you carry

there in your chest and then in our bed,

until embers and fireflies

are snuffed out, asundered

or is there nothing there anymore?

just the charred remains

camoed in the lightless place

we stuff behind closed eyelids