Twilight's Hour

I left your ass in hyperspace
where everything is streaking dust
where what you dream
is real
stretched colors on bright strings

because my chest felt tight
I was enflamed
engorged
tired from pushing a ghost
through the hatch

for this
in breathless repose
weightless my fingers do the sweating
the holy spirit gesticulating
the slow cadence memory

in
out

in,              out

in


out

here
in vacuum
I can breathe at last
on swaying hips strong
intermingling conversations with gods
sweet muse
kiss of some visiting deity
asleep in that everlasting
and empty expanse
vagabond of catacombs

until I can remember you softly again
find me feet
quiet my heart
in this bluewash garden
a surrender

blindfold me
spin me at the absolute zenith
I will spy out your constellation at twilight's hour
and rejoin you in hyperspace.

TA