To Shaina

Night caved in
plucking out windows and kicking down doors

It was a (sort of) nightmare, really,
Fleshed out, translucent,
sucking and gathering the stems of my eyes
dripping with cold birth moldering in the shade

tongue tied, slightly hammered
like cold rolled steel i lay flat on her anvil
finished with my life

At an hour when desperate trembling can lend
a certain veneer of crediblity

And moonbeams droop from killer poles like sicknesses in trees

my heart will stop fluttering in topsoil, shifting its weight,
Opening like an umbrella unto my breath

under the watchful tower of my enemy (sleep)