The Sabbath

you're praying in my dreams again
like somehow your spirit is The Spirit,
your eyes The Eyes
(I always said you had the lips of a god)
your voice is that of an angel
and your scapulas are folding out of
your skin into

wings.
you're rubbing my flesh with your bones
and you're bleeding.
“the healing has started,” you say,
your hair a halo,
life billowing out of your mouth as smoke.
I'm breathing you in
and the light,
oh the light,
swallowing your thin body,
swallowing this moment,
swallowing the space between us with
one fuming gulp

then I wake,
open my eyes to an empty bed
(save the spirits)
and dark room.
I'm looking for my deity
but finding only a man,
pale man,
staring at me in glass
choking on his tears.