Becoming

Shades drawn,

You hide in my dark corners,

Safe and sound,

And the sound is silence.

 

Crawling through an endless sea,

French kisses in the dead of winter,

Eskimo kisses at the height of spring,

Sinking clouds shaped like ships

With the bullets in our eyes.

 

Come out tonight,

Slip on your skin,

See the sights,

Frescos in ceiling fans

Someone famous

Might have touched,

Or wax replacements

For vital parts,

Polished hearts and

Lacquered spines.

 

Be what rests in your blood

And bones,

Let it spill forth

Unto those hearts and spines

Of the lighter folks,

Darken the world and share the beauty

Of a nightly murder and a sense of duty,

The eddying black is not a void

But a warmth so great

No colour could describe the ardor

And woe,

The alluring sorrow of

Your sullen glow

Against the backdrop

Of the asphalt road.