Everything is consumed by fire, and explosions, then the darkness of space. You pull me onto your lap. We rock back and forth. “Maybe this is enough,” I imagine it could be. I know that it’s not.
I turn my head as you snap a photo, I pull the camera from your hands and fire back. “It’s just nice to know you exist. I’d given up on such things.”
I wrap my arms around you as you sit on a rock in the sun. “You need to eat,” I say. But you aren’t sure what to do. I remind you that there’s nothing to be done.
I move a finger over your cheekbone. You have the kindest face.
You spent the night on the floor, but now we are here. Cars on the highway cast light and shadow between our bodies.
I’ve never seen an unlucky moon, but tonight it turns me in circles. You walk through the shadows toward me.
The fate that has brought us together begins to unfold.
Locked deep in the subconscious,
We fight for the same air.
Shell shocked, you abandon ship.
I raise my head from your lap and you’re gone.
God asked me who I wanted to take into the darkness of space, and when I answered, he reached toward my heart and removed a rib.