How should I describe the night to you?
In things heard or sounds eaten?
or in how my unbathed body waited and watched from every pore,
the sunset my eyes chose to ignore?
The sunset never stops,
it lives in the light caught under my fingernails;
the true shade of a bony soul.
I no longer see and I no longer feel
the desire to register any of these daily miracles
my heart is dark and bottomless,
toss a coin, listen and wait with me.
It will come off your tongue and out of your mouth
and become a word or a kiss or a breathe,
laughing its way out of your body
like smoke or your soul after death.
Wait with me,
and ill describe the night to you.