In the language of light,
I tell the stars: wait for me.
The woman in the shadows of a room
with her heart on fire is me without you.
My hands, scorched from reaching
too far, burn like wood, like gasoline,
like paper. And I remember who came
to my rescue, a creature of night,
all teeth and wings, claws and blood.
Now I wish I had not dreamt you or
trusted that you'd let me live.