Elegy From On High

Is it the smoke on my tongue
Or the smell of you (heavy, gone)
That draws me to the window,
And with gaping chest I swallow
Sharp, dark air
To clear away the taste
And fill these hollow lungs.

I am learning how to lose
And how to wander fading halls—
My night ghost finds you stirring,
And wet in your eyes, wide
With the terror of seeing death,
Is the flicker of a nightlight
Sleeping beside you in your bed.

I consigned myself to teeter
On this high and rocky cliff which
Separates the souls below
Into slayers or the slain.
Decision brought me here,
So how I wish to fall
And be carried by the wind.