A Growing Knowledge of Death v.02

I love this night
walking toward
a shared destination
stepping through nothing
body memory
a murk of dreams
waves in near-darkness
distant blue light
where the wind comes from
skinny metaphor hanging
within us
an earring, a keychain
whisper-lipped broadcaster
poking eyes
in the needles
jump from a spangled trapeze
make unfamiliar motions in the dark
terror twirling in your eyes
mistaken for sea glass
now invisible library
stuff your dark form once held