Sheets

After I.F. Annensky First the sky was yellow then white snow followed. On a hand was an amethyst: a cube of  lilac in hospital light. • Whose fault is it when no one visits? • Last night I dreamed I was in a peaceful place but woke up freezing and ashamed. On a side street (on my sheets) one I loved passed as a shadow. Maddish, reddish, his fist clenched for a fight. • I recalled his body color being soft like a child. The drunken nipples. • Honey I called. We were too late. God and the gods have moved outside the jeweled air and sun motes   ... to where a star is: an amethyst minus a poet.