watching sky darken,
we contemplate
words like leaden,
sultry, in-
digo. but leaden
is closer to
the slivered prison
of my rib-cage,
bars behind which
this ache pro-
creates. sultry
means barefoot river
afternoons and indigo
has always been
grotesque, except
on peacocks.
so instead i watch
raindrop veins
on plateglass,
think of melting &
the sublimation
of misted breath,
remember sweat
on glasses,
graveled chaos,
rug-burnt morning
sunlight before
the world changed.
but these windows
will not open and we
feel guilty for
our guilt, wonder
why the stars
stay absent. are
river afternoons so
different, now?
we watch and already
rain is slowing; veins
close & strand drops
in streetlit glass,
almost like star-
light. almost.