Bumping the van, our holey road twists

onto the dark side of each mountain,

drawing us into night and the nervousness

of a stranger at the wheel in an unfamiliar place.

The stars are swallowed, the moon gone

I. Blue chamber 

Take my hand, feel for flesh

beneath the glove, the mask

Catch the notes slipping through

the air (your fingers)

Dance until we die and await the

resurrection

Listen closely.

There is so much beneath the surface

of what we are being told,

like cream rising to the top of milk,

like layers in the ocean,

like light filtering in only through the top.

The rest is inky darkness,

I used to tread over damp ground

yet seek shelter from the rain.

Those wilted lives, half-truths

fed to half-lovers, are gone.

The hollows of your cheeks

are cracked like parched earth

from years wasted needing me to kiss you.