On this laundry mat of field
I am a gray autumn
torpid leaves collapsing in eve
there looming amid quiet
is your peg of moon
an arcane of stars
tilt their lanterns on your behalf
I saw you crammed night
into the belly of your suitcase
you hoarded its girth
as though it were yours
as if it belonged to you
when all I could gather
were your bones of dusk
You wore lavender sky
as I watched you coast to sunrise
taking all what you've reaped
leaving just the blues
and the agony it unfurls.

http://www.nadiabrown.com