let it down

The pavement is between paintings of rain, still glistening and lithe with mirrored light. The gray takes the sky, covers moon and star in fecund condensation, the rolling gait of the storm filling heaven’s bowl. The clock sticks and speaks its toc tics, this providential sparrow’s fall ready to spill and seethe. A kiss in the middle of the forehead of this fevered night. Beaded upon your brow, the providence of pressed lips. Only roads, and ways running through.

Blue lit windows, and porch light stars. Headphones to keep the noise in, rooms that want to run and hide. Dark matter and slaughtered gods, the rattle of ruin deep in your lungs. The surface only glitter and stickers. The surface only painted on. Words shared in separate aches, slabs and mortal blows. Frogs outside the dusty blinds waiting for the show. The book of names, with a line struck through every one. Flesh and fire and the long sundown.

Hit me with your miracle, weigh me down with your grace. Settle upon a stone and throw your bones to the fire. The night rife with spit and glisten reaching through your features. The whispered words without a doubt. This trembling, and the faithful fall.