This cosmic affair
leaves a hollow morning-after taste.
Daylight shredding your fingers from my skin;
my lips left stumbling over the outline of your name.
(a tiger is crouching where my heart last was -
gaze blazing fierce and true,
golden eyes piercing through forests of lies…
Schrodinger’s cat lives within me and you)
1,099 – every single one – nights have endured
the monstrous weight of your presence.
We’ve birthed as many words – stones thrown into oceans -
as I watch their descent, I’m remembering feeling light.
Diane Cambern is nothing more than a thought that once made it as far as the floor of heaven, before being thrown back down determined to finish itself.