From the Fishouse

That we never parted ways, never
untied the last breath. I couldn’t stop

cowering below the wolf. Always looked
back over my shoulder, saw the dark stalker there.

Long ivory legs rose to darkness. In sleep
she hung like hot breath over my neck,

my racing artery, bloody nails printed
the bedclothes, the stench of thick undercoat.
I come undone all over again.

Her limp tongue never left me. She knew
how we would be, dug a grave in my body.

Now we are always alone.
I fear coming close to it, dance before it

awkwardly, not wanting to stain our white ribbon,
lampblack breaking the headstone.