With one hand
on a black
garbage bag
full
of dead rats
I used my other hand
to brush
my fingers
through
your shadow’s hair.
We exchanged
nightmarish pleasantries
in that hollow
June horror;
I knew I needed
you then
the you
in the dreams –
the you
that left
the small shards of glass
in my lungs
last night
when we slept together
and awoke
apart in black sand.
