Most people don't believe that
Other things are possible
That swirling worlds can crash
High and silent in the black, so
Question all the light that leaks
Underneath the door at night, and know:
Every glowing bulb burns out

@

Granted, though, the nights are long
Mottled with the blood of those who
After hearing stars are fiery
Immolated, simply, then
Lovingly, and more than warm

.

Cold feels like it reaches bone but
Only on
Monday nights