[prelude, dust motes in a blade of late light, dry inside while the sky weeps] sound of rain on the skylight smell of rain outside but dry here every move like something underwater graceful flowing but there’s no music just blood in my ears [threshold, a voice cuts the dark like a struck match] your voice across the room darkness come here ——— closer exhaled breath the static before a storm [desert highway, speed as prayer, hand out the window becoming a wing] heat of a candle desert wind through the window hand outside like a wing cutting the wind up and down (up and down) "slow down" —your voice again but you are driving smell of cinnamon pop of a bubble again and again slow down… [the touch, tectonic, the moment the fault line gives] your hand finds my knee and the whole world shifts plate to plate a tremor through the dashboard into my spine every nerve alight chills like a wave from the epicenter of your palm my hand falls down and down lost in the night [drifting, the car dissolves, the desert becomes sea] drifting in a current the moon above ocean black glass below a face a smile a dream or memory hair like a swirl cream in coffee [tempo slows to a basin that feels like a hammock barely swaying] skin to skin and the aftershock across ocean at night now calm hand in hand it hurts too much to remember full moon ocean swims through a life that could have been drifting down nothing left to remember [coda, an empty gallery where the moon hangs] but this ocean empty except for the moon reflected perfectly
