Sharp Curve

I wanted to crawl out of that old light
in my cat's eye I could see you;
too vibrant for me
my fingers bled and I drank from them

There was a sharp curve to the moon that didn't hurt
and the stars were small metal particles that remained,
the only evidence the night allowed of that change of spirit

Holy union of nightmares call out to the unseen
the outside smells like wet dirt,
an old walkway that has become caked to the bottom of my shoe.
My third eye eclipses at the oddest time