On the first star since she left him
she wishes for another

to pierce the night. Alone
she stands beneath it.

Free to watch the stars come out,
the mist roll in, the sky fade
like her bruises, to the colour it was before.

She never slept in his arms,
but, on the outside,

on the first star since she left him,
she wishes for another,

that they might hold her dreams up
until the sky decides to fall.

-

It took a girl to shatter
this porcelain twilight,
perhaps a star can start
to knit the skin.

Cold enfolds his clasped hands,
numbs them like a friend,
helps him forget the silk of her hair
and feel the real again.

This terrifying freedom
must be learned; this star
remembered as the mouth
of a tunnel, his escape route

from a caved-in love.