Friday, December 28, 2012

As the Moon

There was no sun, for it was night, but fire fidgeted
in its corner and pawed the clammy glass
like a restless child, and all our bulbs had blown right out
like broken plans, but two short candles blustering

in their rich ceramic robes chewed out the dark.
My heart became a pile of embers sighing,
my mind a withering wick choked slow by air, but you
breathed easily beside me, casual as the moon.