(Originally published in Witch Wife.)
She’d appear in the break before sleep.
Her face a glass zero. Her dark buzzing.
I was twelve. I sweated & begged
to live. Back then, I believed she could
spike me with faith, a silverweed stolon—
she’d appear in the break before sleep
pronouncing my name in her language
of radial burn. Name, name, name, name.
I was twelve. I sweated & begged
in the dark. My sins hummed between
us a ravel of birds, a lightning smell.
She’d appear in the break before sleep
& drift close. As if my face
were hitched to a track which pulled her.
But I was twelve. I sweated & begged
until she dissolved: empty oval of air.
Now I can’t think what I wished for instead.
How I sweated & begged in the break before
sleep. I was twelve. I was twelve. I was twelve.