As Promised

As promised
it is darker here,
in this place of dreaming
where all questions,
all words,
have become the companions
of madness.

Silence and disappointment
stare at me, hold my hand,
wait for me to say something,
anything that will carve meaning
out of the skin I will discard
in the morning.

Hand me the shovel
and let me dig my own place
in the warmth of the earth.
I will nestle myself into this bed
where I am more alone than I have ever been.

The wings that stretched
with courage toward the sky
will stay folded now,
nicely as the hands of a proper woman
in the pews on Sunday morning.

Not even the angels can tempt me to fly again.

Next time they come to visit
the place where my heart used to live,
I will be gone.
The shards of that broken cup
are too small for my fingertips
to recover in this dark place
where I vowed to meet love
with the hope to heal
the world.

I am awake—
my eyes searching
for even a glimmer
of the light
from your candle.

Even a widow eventually learns
that her man will never come home,
and that she must hang up her black dress
and pray that tomorrow
will bring a little more comfort.

But for now
it is too dark to see anything
and I must wait to smell the scent of desire
as he returns from the hunt--
his hot breath touching my face
like uncontrollable kindness.