IV.
Emilye,
tonight the scrape by my fingers
that animates my blood
intent at writing poetry
has nerves of red painted
and life in its breath

tonight
I have sought
I have killed
this strange – illegitimate – desire of you
while marginal lights
accompany the imperceptible fall
of red smiles occupied
at knocking over air
and rain create
night soaked in white
only the eyes resist
in what they see.
(or: the night of just a moment ago)