We lie here
in this place between
what will be and what
already was
the stars come out
cold, bright
the moon as well, white
the river of snow
hard beneath our feet
this small garden, in
sharp, pale light
the air between us
stirred by breathing
I saw you
in the falling light
still
a statue I wanted
to break
and then make whole
you went in
and I stayed burning
a brightness
to be put out.

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