Embers and flesh – light
crept in through gritty city windows,
night shapes loped along the street below.
She shared shackles with him –
her words licked their wounds raw,
and he was stricken, alive with the ache.
In shock he cast her out of the flames
where she danced a staggering pirouette,
lithe in love – depraved in gusts of her wilderness.
As he lay, she looked on:
she spied unfeigned – a parody of a man
exhausted with the projections he’d thrown.
In the squalid light of an urban sunrise
she saw him, a jaded specter –
struggling in his skin while he dreamt.
So she slept, she leapt to the moon –
the grey leering goon, paling in the day;
and died awake, hollowing a shallow grave.