& then afterward

(i) I woke to early sun: burning of fire, & then afterward. We kept reaching through the long night. (ii) Afterward, the small deceptions we allow ourselves: a sickness, unchecked. Like this: (iii) & first sunlight. Snow continues. I could never close my eyes to light. But there was no light & you looked like night. (iv) There must be a pattern, snow slow-dropping in wet clusters through the wooden arms of empty trees. (v) Sun fingering its way through branches I’d hung my life on. We don’t matter a bit; realization forces our eyes closed— (vi) A sickness, unchecked, like this. I’d hung my life on burning of fire, & then afterward. (vii) Our arms together we searched for patterns & sunlight. (viii) Our arms laced together, pointing together over wind-tossed grasses. Us: waist deep in night blue. (ix) There was no light. You pointed. (x) Sun overhead, you pointed to the wind-tossed grasses. This is a memory now. (xi) Together in that first sun, so vivid: there must be a pattern I’d hung my life on. (xii) Snow dropped in clusters, staggered & jagged. We don’t matter a bit. (xiii) Reflected in lake water: all these things I’ll forget. (xiv) Our arms together but we keep reaching over the wind-tossed grasses. (xv) Black smoke curling: the importance of night-blue field grass, (xvi) the importance of. The stars are close; we try to hold together. (xvii) All this ends but until then: burning of fire, & then afterward. The stars are close; we try to hold. Such distance between the fallen! (xviii) Burning of fire, & then afterward. You pointed. (xix) Grasses silently fold, a sickness, unchecked, reaching. Like this. Wooden arms of trees long since emptied. (xx) This ends in darkness, & all the stars within reach, & other constellations.