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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I. Sighting I saw you through refracted light- a prism of chance splitting ordinary into spectrum. Wind-tangled hair terra cotta and rosemary beneath your nails the scent of soil and citrus on your skin. You carried mysteries-living things I wanted to cradle. I didn’t find you- you found me tracking laughter’s ghost through the market’s crush your eyes mapping longitudes on my wrist before your hands ever dared. You sat, quiet defiance in denim and chipped polish. The dreamer in you claimed territory in my chest, while you remained unaware. The dreamer in me surrendered- with the awe of old cartographers gazing at blank edges where monsters might dwell and the world unspools into wonder. II. Re-inked Skin of Ghostly Narratives Was it then- the blood orange? Memory insists: a vendor near the station strangers colliding in stream. First bite: sun-warm reckless juice streaking my chin staining my shirt- testament I wore all day. At thirty-three, dumbfounded by how little I understood of hunger- how desire redraws the map of intention. Yesterday and tomorrow collapsed into a trembling bite: an unexpected azimuth for all future calculations. Your darkness peopled with ghosts. Your mind: perpetually Monday— always beginning again from broken pieces an archaeologist palming fragments without knowing the vessel’s shape. Above your bed, paper moons taped to the ceiling watched over sleep. Your nightmares’ guttural language translated itself into my tongue until I could not tell what you dreamed from what I feared. You wanted sacred geometry, cathedral symmetry. I wanted forbidden texts the ashes of burnt libraries hidden in soot-rubbed satchels Yet in this stratigraphy of contradictions, we excavated each other- layer by trembling layer. III. Vulpine When the earth opened its mouth to claim you, why didn’t I dissolve- become mist, untraceable? Why did I kneel at the precipice offering myself for judgment accepting the verdict before the plea? That night, a fox- russet ghost at the periphery too clever for direct vision. Just as you exist now: resistant to straight perception visible only in sidelong remembrance. My hands, stronger than my voice released what bound us. Final threads unwound from my throat- the last evidence separating me from the underworld where memory fractures and time unspools. Or perhaps I never released you. Perhaps you slipped through my fingers- like water, like time, like certainty. Some mornings, fox prints scatter the snow toward and away from my door- evidence of visitation I cannot verify. Somewhere in the numbness, our parallel futures attempt to manifest. I look up- expecting your voice urgent as prophecy to illuminate my darkness. Then: only blank pages. Three winters emptied A narrative. Your story. My story. Unwritten chapters. But when I close my eyes, you are tomorrow- not yesterday. IV. Nocturnal Territories In midnight solitude: something else breathes beyond the mechanical heartbeat of seconds and the blue-lit thrushsong trembling beneath my hand. Through the window, no constellation- only something more intimate buried in shadow infiltrating isolation: A fox moves through brittle undergrowth- the silken of paws amber eyes serving movement that now and again now and again- leaves delicate evidence in softened earth. Watchful shadows pause between heartbeats the bold geometry of a being claiming space across invisible boundaries. Concentrated brilliance in motion, attending to what matters until- with the sharp, unmistakable presence of wildness- it enters me: amber eyes reflecting firelight, russet fur carrying the scent of earth and blood orange, careful paws printing the soft terrain of memory. I recognize you in this creature’s deliberate progress- the way it navigates darkness without fear the way it exists fully in its knowing. No absence more hollow, no loss more severe. You were sanctuary a magnificent archway where the fragile could shelter. Your creative arc still ascending- a comet whose trajectory I can no longer track. With your departure, the veil between worlds thins. Yet meaning persists- like fox prints in new snow like the scent of blood oranges in December like the cartography of desire redrawn each night as I trace constellations of our brief convergence. I didn’t find you- you found me. And having been found I cannot return to who I was before you taught me to see what exists beyond the mapped territories, in the wilderness where a fox’s eyes are both warning and welcome- pawprints vanishing in the vulpinity of first light.
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