I found her long black coat
Way back in the closet. Dark enough
To be without dimension, dark enough
To hold nothing but itself in its arms.
I’ve lain on the ground in the dark enough
To know what comes crawling out
So I do not check the pockets, do not
Smash my face in its frangipani and inhale.
The wail I make hardly comes out.
I have an affinity for moths.
I have my own way of ending the world.