Where I come from there are no
There is the ground and the sky
our feet and our hands.
You were beside me when I woke.
Your eyes reflecting the dark
except that you moved.
I was frozen hot, dripping
with fear, your dry brush legs
tightened like a fist
at my breaths, your body tenses –
Outside the curtains the Moon
is busy, watching
something rattle through the trash.
When you leave, (finally, you leave)
you move like liquid poured
down a dry wall.
All eight legs and eyes
releasing me as you dribble down
into the black,
invisible except that you moved.