meets her and sits back, let’s her
make the move, senses danger and knows
it’s unavoidable, knows because every time,
when she looks over, there are words
unsaid, in wait, words that don’t need saying
and it isn’t romantic, it isn’t spiritual, it’s just there,
like a devilish tether, invisible to all but two, waiting
to spin an ecstasy of chaos through a night of burning
embers, so she waits,
and he waits, while only the mountains move,
and the oceans drain and really what is she
but another person, another beautiful moon person.
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