Dark as the bar at closing.
Like the copper streetlight,
I’m burning cool,
blooming tall

out of my dress,
guitar notestrings
one door over
roil from the walls,
unroll about me,

like my hair from the clasp.
Dark as the stairs to my door.
Strange words to fresh eyes,
roselipped secret opened
to a welcome stranger
unfolds me,
shell by shell,
blouse then mouth…..

Dark as memory,
the shadows between us,
over us. Dark as the rush
from fingertip to center.

Moments of form through
bands of windowlight,
two, briefly braided,
and still unknown.


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