I. In the dim nape of night
like oil poured on a canvas
she comes to my door.
I smell her perfume:
white amber, she walks through
the snow with bare feet,
a plume of smoke that stirs the earth.
Here, in darkness, in flesh,
my love draws me nearer.
She stares through her lashes
as the warmth from her breasts
surrounds me like a balm
to my weeping wound.
I whisper, "Am I dreaming?"
and my lips kiss her pale neck
while a white feather falls to the floor.
I hold her, breathe her air,
wonder at the endless expanse of stars,
accept the feeling of her skin.
To have fallen, how, into
a fire that consumes me?
Here, in darkness, in flesh,
my love draws me nearer.
There are no words I know, only
her name and her scent: white amber.
II. The winter snow lightens to silver
under the moon.
I am seeing now where
I have been, why she haunts my dreams.
A light of some kind,
thunderous and deafening,
separates us:
blows right through my thin curtains
and into my flesh.
Another snow comes down.
Another sigh,
suddenly my heart lies
not inside my chest, but elsewhere,
another way:
far away, beyond the window.
I feel the cold.
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