By morning I have renamed us.
Thrumming wings take flight
through crimson wounds
you have christened with your hands,
a forgiveness I can believe in.
I’ve etched your voice in my memory
to not forget the glossy sound
of humming wings when you speak.
In dreams crystal eyes orbit above me,
so that I may sleep free of shadows.
I’ve pared us down to dark and light,
forgotten all I knew of love and when
I try to speak my words catch
at the cache of my throat.
“The Embrace” by Gustav Klimt