literature

the widow run

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Literature Text

why is the sky filled with clouds that leave iridescent trails
and the heart either so red or deep charcoal black;
somehow a torch light grows into a burgeoning flush
that rumbles in the deep tunnels of the mind:

it is only her bliss, an eternal fervor
that scatters a helter-skelter spark
that patters like footsteps heard only in the dark
that could be coming from any direction

and the heart a light-bulb flickering on and off, because;
the skin smooth temperatures rising and falling
and the breath caught and suddenly released at the memory
neurons booming to life at the flicker chasing random paths to it

all in the span of a half a second
as the thought of bliss passes through a name:
the thought suddenly a window
engendered from nothing at all, the definition of sudden

then gone, like a light being chased through a maze at midnight
if
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