The halo thick, stretch bruised and yellow;
it crowns my mourning thin bedfellow,
Her with eyes spilt splinters on the sweat-steamed bathroom floor
The shards of iris, cast honey, cloudless
Swim straight through stripping marine roar.
Before this shelter, black hole bombing
She clocked thin hours, suspense and haunting
The alien blue space draft in which she dwelled before
As one snuffs pain, the yawning of her veins,
To bubbling, bursting volcanic sores.
To bend, to break, the crested shadows on her face
Each swell of skin clipped in wrinkled lace
All bent fingers slammed straight in the swinging door
That opens for others, her sober sisters and brothers,
Puzzle click patience to keep from wanting more.
For her I leak from needle valves within
A melting shroud on stain-seared skin
I murmur mouth full that grating lullaby’s score
For her I’’ve mastered, paced disasters
I’m not like her, I’m not, I’m sure.
Though at the falling, of dusk and shutter
The hunger for thickness, spread over the clutter
Snap the limbs and stroke the core
I’d rather fear, the view from here
Than know by slow heart the pickets of the white framed door.