on two.

--thinking

how I might have lit myself on each

one, an unspoken understanding

the clasped eyes held firm

and a rueful twitch of the lip

for all the confusion in between

and the echo

--the shadow reaching out

for once, not back--

for the sake of holding oneself steady

to allow another's voice

wandering the surfaces--to return itself

--a tight grasp between them.

--and something stronger than tenderness

would be self-control.

and the fire would consume itself

into a glow--ever-brighter

until you lit the sidewalks

and made the world to sky.

and in the other--you'd wander lost

naked, despite your clothes

you'd come stripped bare

and come to yourself out of self-preservation

in the face of the wind whispering--alien

in the needles, and whatever is scuttling

in the brush--

--the chill of the lengthening shadow

--and what would be returned to you

would throw you against the sky.

and teach you anew

the names of your bones