i’ve been groping for a candle
to melt the blue night away,
a flame on a riverbed you
float above while you hungrily scour
the banks for a heart to stitch you name on.
—
some permanency i assumed
flakes off the wall i wait behind.
this acrid affection dripping off my chin
can’t be wrung out
in a seashell.
or a pillow.
or a glass bottle.
dried blood on a screw meets
a fresh tide at daybreak.
—
most candles simply exhale
the vignette of you but
tomorrow will come only if i
melt the blue night away.
—
a dusty tune starts to soak
the air as i
continue my search.
precious 