Your sketch stares at

me, lean and dark and hungry in the yellow light.

I have no fear of tomorrow, only

thing in my head is the promise of

everything and forever

Twining around myself as I have

been, this week, and on

and back till as I lay

in sheets I can feel it pulling

tighter like rigging

in my chest, clutching the sides

of itself so I can

hardly be still

The rain falls strangely; I never saw

that kind of light before and

sometimes I still wonder how the hell I got here.