End of Reel

First breath following wakes of the
palms pressed, brushed on my arm and then
wave stretched sending me off to descend,
leading me into the bend.
Keep pulsing my hand to the beat of you.

Shapeless hiss hanging over the
mixes of midnight and twilight.
It passes, dims to make space and suspend
while she's singing her swan song again.
It got stuck in my head as the sound of you.

In the night, we will celebrate cyclical spin
as we ritually send off the fire at both ends
yet I'm blanketed, wet with the thought in my head:
I don't know what I want what I want's where I've been

The kind of thing that hangs inside a moment.
A kiss of good that's temperate and golden
that permeates the surface of the woven
and seeps into the piece of you inside of my head.

Goodness, present and hallowed
is thanking walls of the shallow
embankments for flowing in over the
ranks of soldering messes of
dayglow blades scorched by hovering halos.
Washing away until I don't even cringe at the thought of you.

In the light of the day, stabilize and reset
and then burn in the image until I can't forget
and then ceaselessly speaking until Nothing is unsaid.
I don't know what I want what I want is where I've been.
In the night will you rest your head into my hands
will you disrupt this pattern from starting again?
If I ask you for Nothing will Nothing there stand?
I don't know what I want what I wants where I've been.

and Oh, the resonant calm comes hard
and hums off the walls of the block uncarved.
It's new, but I don't know what to do
with sight of you brimming.