(Untitled)

in some glass realm

where we diverged,

and shouldn't have.

where we looped back,

and shouldn't have —

a glaring white lucidity

that's neither here,

nor there:

i am still familiar

with the bright blue shape of you.

you made me from scratch.

i know your heart.

hungering once more

for what passes through hands.

i've seen your blood.

i've numbed your spine

in sluggish trudging doldrums

where my marrow cannot unlearn you.

sleep now,

the way only the spent may sleep.

my love is labyrinthian

to the firefly in its jar.