Until Night Calls

For a moment, my shadow slips from me;
when I find her
she is standing at the screen door
before the blues and oranges
and lets the wind pass
right over her
her hair does not move

but above, the stars give a sleepy shiver
still nesting in the curve of the sky
where they will stay until night calls upon them
to fall and burn away her outline
to scatter her

I feel incomplete, but I don’t disturb
I let her stand
and watch the colors
and perhaps feel some kind of feeling
she is but a projection
I thought
but it seems it is not she who is shaped from me
but me who is shaped from her
and she is the saddest
most brave thing.

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