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 were eyes 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.