Light ran down your right flank,
you with your arm above your head
side-lit. I sat with my back
against a wall, across the room
holding the hard floor
for dear life.
Light leaking,
light running like wet paint, light
dripping off you into my eyes.
Knew it would hurt my fingertips, lips, heart,
knew I could slip on that light
fall and fall and fall. I held the floor
held my tongue, held it all in while
you burned—half archangel, half sinner.
