Quietly the Night

Your words like fireflies hover blinking, floating
streams of warm air; eddies, currents of meaning
not lost on me, not bereft of hope but trying much
too hard to land to become a thought inside, in
time a moment remembered…corrected, selected

Quietly the night becomes the medium the message
the moment remembered…your actual words fade
into shadows, into pools of deepness behind your
eyes; I put the feeling the shadowy remembrance
aside and embrace the you in my mind on my skin

I know the words, hear them fall bounce skid across
my skin in my ears I feel the pressure the sinusoidal
waves of energy…I can only watch as they lay dying
on dark waters: lack of warmth from lack of…
…love, a depletion of meaning and distance

I say to myself; confronting your words, mixing in
the night air, the movement of meaning from me to
you—clashing biting fighting words…mad fireflies
dancing in the darkness—I say to myself that what
I feel is simple loss…emptiness and sorrow

It was inevitable this parting this fading glory gone
ragged unkempt, the reemergence of shadows of
moments forgotten wedged sideways into cracks
into dark places…the night claims the space where
non-literal fireflies held dominion

I will remember only the still night air, fireflies 
land on frayed hemp lines: knowing being holding
us to love, the land, cutting slicing as the barge that
was us floats free into the current…and no fireflies 
dance in the quiet night

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