his rage cracked her drifting, glass horizons

She could have forgiven a frantic, hot-headed brother,
his wet feathered head, foggy, lost,
in singing clouds,
but not this Ghost
who brought her inflamed water
and growling, begrudged her his shoulder.

He'd fallen from a broken moon
a low star, burnt out, consuming itself,
it swung blue with his mad regrets,
cooling and silencing green songs into molten rock.

His cement heart
starving she could not warm,
though for decades she denied
the child within her that he'd become

she pushed him out,
in a waterlogged struggle against death.

Offerings only of salt
blossoms and beautiful chains
he'd refused to live or die.
So he froze in limbo for a time.

He'd fallen too far,
poisoned grace, vanishing
her
night skies
above
the flood of his needs,
she liberated the moon and her stars back
into their natural, tilting orbits.

But this he didn't consider, blinded
by his images of
belonging and owning
the sky she worshiped
and to which he only felt
entitled, vanishing
wife from bed made
his shadow sink slowly
black sugar dissolving
from espresso back to the source.

out walking New York,
alone
amongst angels who kept him,
allowed sleep, dreaming of canoes
and conversations

abandoned. as she'd been

he fed on tears, memories,
some kind of potion.

He never expected to emerge....
Wind ordering him to move,
his brain raced against reason,
he cried "No" and no one came.

unknown, but not truly alone,
imbibing darkness, for to see again
what he could no longer ignore:
his panicking now was not for her
but for fresh air.

The chill demanded him to marry
the monster he'd become
and misnamed as "that woman"
yet to taste of the lightness within darkness, one small mouthful at a time.