The Final Night

Your pure beauty and innocence scream.

My mind, a white blind cresting wave,

consumed with the buttery perfection of your

flesh, warm and pulsing, a wonder, compact-

blaring its expanse in deafening roars of

whispered finality.

All your possibility lays like a stone,

an anchor dragging against the sand

at the ocean's bottom. I flail against

waters- deep, gray and churning- the

tip of your ship's wide underbelly, intact-

taunting- telling tall, dark tales-

incessantly breathing.

I am trapped, clawing underneath, without

oar or fathomed sight, the black weeds

catching around my ankles. Only by

splintering your surface, I see, will

light ever reach me.

The sun drenched air

hides charms, with fated amulet

wrapped inside your swollen belly,

buried in your trusting folds-

your fingers, that did not need to be taught

to wrap around mine, opening.

We are bound, us three-

Winken, Blinken and Nod

on a parched, dread sea;

we an island. He, absorbing

all the daylight, holding

cooing babe at a fierce arm's length

and I, buried just under the surface-

treading against a violent wish

for silence.

A dream, coated in silver,

forms and dissolves,

with the sway of wave and foam.

Layers of silt fill my mouth and eyes.

The sheen of your new skin

bobs on the surface

of waters, separating

you from me and breath.

Black eels fold inside you,

expanding like ink, an incantation

I must extricate, before their

proportion overtakes us

and...

the night shatters.

The blur of night breaks, with calm fury-

your dandelion globe skin, blown into

red mist puffs across the coverlet.

Shards of glass fill my eyes as I blink back

mourning, seeing you stark and limp above me-

your once pink and plump joy, bubbling

into high notes that float like chimes

above the morning, lie flat and pale, where

even the dust around you is consumed.

On the blue cradle above, a

sea of gray carpet under me,

pooled with our mingled blood, dried

to black- your golden hair lays still

upon a white, sand pillowcase.

His white, stiff hands, stretching you as far

as they could reach, away from me.

A dark lullaby lays cold as tombs-

a scream etched silent upon my

blood red lips.