and light floating down my cheek. She lingers
By my window in the dark, creeps across
The floor and lays her stark hands on my bed.
It’s my shoulders she loves best, her whisper
A cold sheath of metal stroking my neck.
Her hands easing slowly onto my skin,
down my thighs and fins into my small toes.
I wake, rustling as a tree would, empty
as a universe dotted with distant
truths, unwilling to reach for her touches.
I sink further under the folds of waves,
Hiding from troops that march slowly behind
Their queen. Then soft Dawn’s sister, quite unlike
Her cold sibling, will burst forth with great heat.
And yet now, left only with dark Morning,
Mourning for the darkness that is leaving,
I pray to her - Let me stay in this place,
Where souls are yet unborn. Leave my sorrows
Unformed, black lady, so I may yet sleep.