make the lightning believe

make the lightning believe

the bright strike, crumbled

my night, as i looked

to your curtains,

and saw, no light.

and now, as you slither

from sleep, your curtains

hang gapped; your half smile,

for no one, catching

the ruffled dust.

the first, rouged glow

of dawn, captured within

the pale skin of your back,

glimpsed between

a jumper change.

i close my curtains,

unsure, in my seeing.

we have never

been introduced,

save for the dimpled wink

of the retreating moon,

showing us lonely windows

gazing in on each another;

slightly too far

for anything clear.

beside the sky bent forks

that shiver into the earth.