It wasn't splashed on. Or even spray-painted exuberance
on the giant liquefied wall, it was
as if your breath was caught between
the looking glass, lit up
by a flickering candle.
I haven't seen the moon here - lest heart
should jump out and rejoice
at its feverish heartbroken twin:
from once upon a time
above a heaving ocean,
when air wove fiery loops
around flowers' necks,
tighten them and finally -
watch charcoal petals fall
at our oblivious feet.