a woman, barely a woman,
but something between the organic world
and nightmares,
hidden in shallow trenches of light,
crouches on the wall of the balcony---
it creaks beneath her weightlessness.

she looks at me with blank eyes,

no trace of color in her stare,
and licks her long
stern
lips.
there is an invitation there,
and she might as well be extending
her bony hand.

“come,” she says
with her edges and elbows.
“come into the dark
so i can see you properly.”

i have wanted this since before i knew
what desire was;
i do as she wishes.

even now, the mere thought of her
turns my body
into a solid hurricane-----
november cold insides
combatting with
the heat of blush and gooseflesh.

i don’t know
how long this storm will remain so dense
i don’t know
how long before it supernovas
and destroys us both.
i do know it will be a terrible swansong
and we will fall into sapping trembles
like fireworks

i sit next to her on the edge.

falling does not occur to me.
we stand at the same time,
without a word,
and ascend.

higher and colder it becomes,
and finally i am part of the right puzzle,
and it is almost too much,
because i have found the dream i always forget,
but awaken to with an ache in my mouth
and something moving
where my heart used to be.