a room burning
The light passes through him,
passes between
the rooms of my heart,
blind corridors he
navigates by night
for a glass of water.
He frays open like a sewn mouth,
bandage unwound,
soft scream beneath my palm -
I let him in,
where the other feet walked across
my welcome mat,
subservient hands on the floor
and creeping out of bed.
In my imagination,
he cries about innocence
and sad sunlight as
we push our chairs in.
The sound of finishing, much like
a car leaving your house
carrying a body.
