Unacquainted Silhouettes



I hold my breath against yours
and stoke this barter of living

counting the hours of a bus ride
suspended in the rugged steeps

counting the hours of a sleep
just before a dream strikes

If every measure is a moment of understanding,

then all the distances
from this candle
to the dark walls,
shrink into a wick,
blazing the air,
membrane by membrane

The spark is as subtle
as the opening of an
old, almost forgotten book-
spilling dust and drudgery,
as if the only way for
the light to transpire
is from within