hungry tongues of fire lick
the skin made of glass
of the vessel
holding everything
we could never say,
but hold
in the black lungs of blue bodies.

and then air, breath, life.
the long exhale.

summoning dark angels
with smoke and mirrors
and hands
that hold loosely.

flesh and bone reflecting
that which has no edges.
or us. the light and shadow
dancing, but only in peripheral vision,
shadow concealing teeth (sharp
behind lips that speak
a language of their own)
and the marks left behind
in the flesh of the moon
who holds still in the dark.
holds us all in place
burning in oceans of night.






and within the two way exchange of energy lies the potential for transformation....