Work Text:
spark
when the wind is whispering
catch me, catch me
reach up above the skeleton-arm trees
and pull the wolf howl moon from the sky
set it in my cradling palms
(like the gift of your heart)
and I'll set it alight
moon of ice, moon of fire
until the night is cinder black
we'll live inside your lonely cave
and write our stories in the ancient ashes
we'll tell each other tales
of dead things and dead people
and of how many of our yesterdays
are gone
(sometimes ashes come from dead things
but sometimes new things grow
up from ashes)
in the small and quiet hours
when midnight sinks deeper into darkness
take your soot-black palms and paint the sky darker
so all the stars go out
then paint my skin with lips and teeth:
black like the burned things, purple like dusk
and red like the blood
that shows I'm still alive, that proves I've survived
one more day
if you let me mark you too
maybe this time they won't fade
so everything I feel for you stays written on your skin
in shades of dawn and sunrise
and all the places I whispered against, everywhere I touched
will be tattoos of bruised ink
that don't vanish with your other shadows
when I brush the ashes from the morning sky
and set the sun alight