the plastic wrap of the stars tonight
holds; the houselights of the insomniacs
as scattered as; the ipod does not say
your name; the wind, o, so nearly so--

the delicate snow, a tease of lithe nails--
the world long numb within its sphere
of confluence; i scent hard at this cold
aftermath of you; yes, o, dark wisdoms--

whatever your want, o, i wish for you--
be it pity or praise; subtleties of dream
or stark awakening; madness or love--

or the bright fury of startled animals
lost within exquisite moonlessness--
the stars shiver-sunder, o, to breathe