We hold candles and a sense of place,
Drinking down words
Painted and ground into our flesh -
The last remains of fire and smoke
Burning our hands like an old friend.
We are worn from the inside out,
Shedding dreams and heat -
Sweet words-
Your story still fresh on my skin.
Silver moon and serpentine galaxies
Wrap around us like honey
And the spoiled husk of the serpent,
Catching our image in frost
And holding it -
Stars like spilled gold and lightning -
Remember.
We need something beautiful about us.