Where mountain lightning blinks,
at once your silence strikes. Spattered

sunlight bloods the clocks. Crippled shadows
dart down valleys. Over cracked banana

leaves, I am so afraid if you come back
to my life, you'll bring yours, the one

the mud sucked out. Black iguanas
claw through bedsheets, grabbling,

restless. Split pods of their eyes continue
ripening in my sleep, my senses drugged

by oceanic rain, your twilight
of cane, a drowned halation. If fever

lights these veins, if I am ill, I am so sick
of sickness. Quick as ships appear, green

electrics slash their rigging, pirate the now pitched
horizon. Gauntleted like a girl against you,

I advance in absent
weather, wondering why

the hole you left me for
widens into this

eye of night, this ever wound-up world,
this wound without end, without wind.

(Ac: Phoebe)