gray light reflecting off the mirror of
lazy water swirling in misty circles and
leaves like tracing paper
hide the moon behind silken screens
he walks ahead with the stance of a warrior and
though his face is proud as steel
he has gray eyes tonight
gray eyes that burn like the light that once was
before the day when we waited for
the dawn that never came

as he writes i read over his shoulder
watching him unmake the world by sans serif script
unravelling reason into strings of glorious words
strewn across the floor of our future
he spins and weaves the pattern
showing the threads how to fall
each in their own time to ensnare my thought-wisps
and turning turning turning i see
how they can change into things
that don’t exist

the wind is going crazy
dancing and scattering the grass-stalks
shredding flowers to cast confetti into the clouds
murmuring in his gray gray voice
forgotten secrets that no longer matter
making me remember him from when
he used to weave complicated webs
spinning tapestries to catch my dreams on
the nights when he sang me to sleep
hiding the moon behind his silken fan

he takes my hand and tells me
in a language i swear i do not know
that i must trust him and
as i look up
my face is wet with the sky’s blood

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