I stiffen: again

I stiffen: again a shift,



a shuffle somewhere



in the darkness,



impenetrable



as the guillotine.



The scaffold collapses



into a bulging jaw



sputtering against



the shut. The heart



is a muscle. Alone,



against the drawbridge,



my hand, wet with fog,



slicks over the steel,



and the big bolts



resisting rust. Lift,



and the rain



folds like hands retiring



into applause, and



your silhouette disappears



like a question



into a question mark.



As if anyone could be



lost, and permanently.



A candle spills through



its wax, as the buildings,



slowly, fall into a cloud



which appeared as if



to catch them, but, in



truth, held nothing.