I walk with this emptiness in my hands. I carry it
as a quilt-work star. I carry it
in the same way you carry eulogies
in your mouth. Think of how many grains
of sand you’ve scraped
from your ankles, how many moons
you’ve seen buried
in this ocean. The night is the path
I have chosen to take, wider than the day
and its glittering edges, brighter even
than the morning and the bones
it reveals on the floor of the sky.
I walk with this emptiness in my hands. I carry it
somewhere safe from the light
your teeth announce.