To polish the night
In patches of memory
hints of a past
Fastened like dried fruit
A dot of fire swaying around
a cinder of string
flutter sink sultry sugar crust
to polish my skin
a rest-bit for temperance
passages of power spaceships
lines that indicate “lift-off”
silver and gold leaf
gilding and lilting a steady rain
all revolutions exaggerate
relinquishing my sense of purpose
light and volume weave an ambience
while holding the love of someone
gentle, egregious and forlorn is a key
to an alternate universe
