darkness didn’t fall it dropped
in a bunched curtain
like her conversation, polarized.
so i donated old clothes,
said something about heavy
doors or percentages
and who needs words
turned to return space
and found the sky in pink-purple
waves like summer heat but
that’s not the point.
i might rewrite the night
with her voice, that strange interim
between endings, half awake as day
fades to some dim night shade.