bones
for ships passing in the night
love, most simply,
is the cherry
of his cigarette,
seen from five
miles away
out to sea during
the new moon.
but it caught me
off guard, unarmed,
unprepared to defend
myself in the moment;
communications down,
a sitting duck, floating
in unfamiliar waters
and he found me there,
vulnerable and cold,
but left me shivering
in the dark, without
even the burning end
of his cigarette
to warm my aching bones.




















