locum lunaris

locum lunaris

between memories of childhood

and the failing of memory, 

sits the me of me; 

                               stands the i am;

crawling down the moonlight, long

on the slate of snow. 

the balaclava of this domed tomb of night, 

seems like a skull to me, surrounding a dark

and singular place, at the 

very edge of frozen thought.

a needle of torchlight stitches

a bridge to the distance, and where light

can reach, we can follow; the boys ganging

up in unhesitant trepidation. the music 

of heartbeats dare steal a word,

dare to see the axis of our history, 

frozen in this night; 

infinitesimally slow to tear away 

from this once and only,
and leave it hanging there.