The Dregs of the Mute Sky

I will breathe your name, and I will call you in the evening of that day. We will drink elderberry wine, and you will smile. As the night begins to age, you will put your hand on my knee, and, instead of being afraid for my heart, I will be eager for its breaking, and I will lean into your hand. Our lips will come together. In their joining, the light will affix itself to our faces, slipping across our earlobes and cheekbones. It is in that night that for a single unparalleled hour we will be in possession of the greatest love.


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