In The Basement of My Body

In the downstairs world,
the inner universe, slow

like cold moths resting on
a basement wall, darkness

is the room that kills love
before it becomes a burden.

I mean to say, my heart grows
black and stale; a crack in

the concrete floor stumbling
towards its own grief.

Do you know what moves
upstairs? A cloud, the color

of grey eyes with bones
that glitter.