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i light the fire and see the blossom dance on air alone; i will not douse that flame, that searing flower; i will burn in it.
The moon is silent, but she calls me by name with a voice like redemption. I do not want to ask for forgiveness here, but the beating rose in my chest aches so badly as I haphazardly remember. Memories are always at bad timing and without someone warm at my shoulder, kneading the strands at my neck into plaits, I cannot move my mind back into numbness. I will always glance down a path and wait for her seatbones to cue from my back. I will wait for her soft hand to pat my neck in reassurance. But I will always see the tender face half-submerged in mirth, stony eyes piercing mine, a trail of crimson trickling from her lip, the dark water swirling with wild arms, the final hug of current, and the snatching undertow before the last breath. I watched her lungs fill with the river. I fear that I will never forget.
But this wide moon speaks over the crest of this hill with a curing voice—platinum, pure. Her light is mine as I emerge from the trees and inhale. Air. It is sweet, sweaty, licentious, rosy—everything I cannot afford. If freedom is a sin than I am not a sinner. I am not free, for my beloved girl still holds the other end of the reins and I will obey the pressure in the corner of my mouth. She thrums within my pulse, racing within my legs like a nighttime canter. Her spirit: alive in my eyes like it should be. Like it will always be.
I find the moon's face with rose eyes and she bleaches them to stone. I think my bones have turned to dark emeralds because I don't quite feel alive, but I know I am the color of something that is. The wind perhaps, or something from my memory whispers hope, or trust but whatever it is I believe it because it sounds like it belongs to her. I cough up the energy I have left and start picking a way down the ravine through the sparse pines. The moon is gloriously full and speaks to me softly of riches, wind crooning through vagrant ears. Clearly I'm delirious, but I'll do anything for a distraction so I go ahead and ask the moon with two wilted eyes like fallen stars,
"will you redeem me?"
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i am nothing, i do not even have ashes to rub into my eyes
