"Drown me in the eloquence of your work."
I said. And she did. So I was
at the bottom of her thousand-league snow.
I have seen things I shouldn't.
have felt the cosmic.
Like powdered skin cupped magnificently in my palm,
the sensation lingers.
Perhaps we can't navigate
all the debris-splintered charnel
without holding His hand.
But damned if I'm not trying.
And so I'm trying
The white of the Ash, it streams down her throat
in its hallowed, powdery fill.
She clenches her teeth, and I lower my eyes.
There is no time when I am not alone.