dark and rough and unbreathing
atop my chest remains bone
thin neck untouching
away from my hair, cough crackled on hot blood.
here unalone on the mountain, crouching
unattentive ears remaining without the light.
everything stays. not even a crow uncoils out of
the hills, not even morning sounds.
when I left home, feeling the grassy
plains in my hands, I smelled the unrest,
heard the feet, I am sure, close rain,
and clear skies tethering nearer
but as I half dream here, sunlessly,
stillness tells me that the black
stars upon my cheeks have been transfixed,
multiplying into patterns undecipherable
dew catching in my eyes