In the light,
your face opens like a turning moon and I creep into a little pool of your light.

Bring me across the river
where I can sprawl on the bank
and call this whole place my
dreary home
Soaked in a thousand wool threads,
I shield my eyes–
I shield my eyes from the lights of downtown
their call fuses to my bones
Replacing the broken sections
with empty caverns
where no marrow lives
where no marrow grows

In the light,
your face opens like a turning moon and I creep into a little pool of your light
unusually steady
swirling in consternation
round and round and round
the eddy.