I set a place at the table
for someone I cannot forget
and a candle-stub is still
warm in the grate
after we watched it burn
and sputter from your breathing.

Tonight you’ll lead me in a dance
beneath the dark side of the moon
and I’ll close my eyes
and breathe in the darkness.
You pulled yourself from the earth
to be here, and I can do no more
than paint my eyes green for you
and carve a face into flesh.

But I will walk with you
in-between here and there
and you can touch my hair
and speak approval through
a doll’s mouth.
For tonight we turn everything over
and the King will die and
be born again; leaving the trees
to sleep, keeping still
and silent through months and months
of moonlit ice.

I will light a new candle
and whisper your name in steam,
watching the flame sputter
while you fade into photographs
and watch me through a crow’s eyes.

Please close the door when you leave,
the winter is long and it is time,
now, for you to slumber.
Follow the candles home,
they’ll light your path
so you do not stumble,
and I will paint my eyes green,
and watch this candle drown
in its own molten ambition.

And I will remember you.