GREATLY BE GENTLE

In the night-spun clearing we were spent, star-burst wide

and lending our skin to the sun’s failing heat.

Where your hand sat, my clavicle met, unbending.

Where are your arrows to pull this bow-bone taut

till timid, till cracked so night could crawl its way inside?

Was a sharpness where you weighted yourself against me.

Was a blind spot in my body’s breakage, where tightness

Was soldiered away, spread well-winged and with blade.

A dream in my night broke my sleep.

I only remember waking to streetlights

through the window, a dull yellow

washing over everything. My darkness

a lighter shade of itself. On my bare chest,

light masked the door to the dream.