in a place where there is no darkness

From White, through
static;
rain;
to your Door.

I could have lived forever,
naked and steaming—
fiery being—
in the October night air
in which we met;
fortuitous conjunct—under what God's
eyes, I cannot
[darenot]
say.

I can still smell your soap
on my hands—
and I know it will never happen again,
but it's nice to pretend.
It's nice to pretend.

Naught but friends,
you say.
Though we shared in warmth, so shall I remain.

Forever will the bitterness return;
forever must I be visited
by the angels fallen—Smirnouph, Kannabis, Solétude;
Nephilim deux, et
Seraphin who
smell of stars and vacuous static
and the nothingness we have found
betwixt our selves overswollen.

[I can feel the angels behind my eyes—]

Your eyes belie; my ears whisper trickeries.

[—Seraphim are falling.]

I have fallen,
I am fallen,
I have fallen,
I am fallen—

and I remember only somber grey;
transference of heat;
small deaths, and sleep.

And I know we will
[never]
meet again someday.