He's closing the blinds.
A moon pulled across the room
like a cloak,
the air is thick
with silence.

My mouth, a shadow
no kind of door
and only the bed to separate us;
I wish there was more.
The walls stare at me, hungry for words
their mouths are closed
the cloak, rough on lips
like love or truth
banishing the breath
that ties us together.

Once, you lassoed the moon for me
and served it with red wine
the taste, I can't remember.
The walls are under my tongue
in my ears, beneath my fingernails.
Once, you captured the moon for me
now you close the blinds. And all I remember
as you turn your back to me,
is wine, soft on the lips,
like lies.