to hold your hand

 

darkness is falling,
collapsing through the open windows

I follow you up the stairs and you are holding a dead body
in your mouth, I say, stop, then, nevermind, but you don't know
nevermind and the body stands up.

I have a memory of Scheherazade
cradling her wineglass, about
to laugh

to laugh,
I hold your hand, to laugh,
I open your ribs, laugh, spread your
intestines, read the signs,

I am holding the darkness between my finger and
thumb, rubbing it against my lips,
singing softly.