Cardigan

The circular lake of the moon echoes our footsteps

So deep, both the night and the lake

His voice wonders

“No”, said I

He walks to me and hands me his cardigan

In the void of water, he jumps

In the woods that cover my skin that shivers

The scent of him left in the fabric that hugged him

The scent of the mosses where I sit

His hair shines like the sundrop as his body lifts the water

The like of his and the stars up the void

And my scars to be made