Eye-level with the kindling

For Shawna

In the visible spectrum, white reflects all colour.
Black absorbs all light.
In the electric trainyard of the human eye
light kisses the passing atoms and
flips them on their tarot backs, converts them
into heat

this is for the burning collars in your wardrobe
the singed hemline of your dresses
the fever you slip into with every outfit of the day

you are the catseye framed by lanterns
the pale cage that swallows the torch-hearts around her
the moth aching for consumption

you are the warm eclipse
the earth begs to be cloaked in

you are the woman who builds thrones
eye-level with the kindling
who holds charms at the hollows of her throat
holds her lovers at the summit to face the sun
holds space for the white grief in every friend

your trust is the coin the final ferryman seeks
a love knights give up armour for
draw blades for,
kneel for, waiting

you are the woman
who speaks fluent twilight
whose every waking second is a witching hour
whose skirts brush the dark grin of this city
whose skeleton lifts into the minor chords of midnight

you are the table jewels, slipping
from the smiling neck
you are the glitter in the sheets
weeks after.

Shawna,
you are the second day altar
we all come to
hoping for glimpses of the truth we could be living
if we loved as bravely.

You are the pilgrimage
we all make
when we are ready to know
the absorption of all light.

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