Night went by like nothing

As it descended that night it seemed

more and more to be made of silver,

and flat. Empty branches divided

the sky into shards and edges and

the moon might have been the god

of broken glass. But our eyes were full

of fire we made. Its embers rose

like the crumbs of us that tend to

eddy unseen behind our souls. Then,

later, it was as dark as that room

you're never going into even

if you unlatched the door. A dark that

took all our words before they even

reached our throats. And we slept, quiet

and rough as salt at the bottom of a bowl.