Emulsion

The storm flickers in jagged frames. First the silence of my breath, my legs yielding to asphalt. Then the screeches – the water, the air, wrapped in sheaves of wind.

The sheaves run after me. The breath escapes capture. The abdomen tightens to pain. The rock bites into fall.

I fall into your polished figure unsheathing at my youth; short, spindly legs spring; lips reach rigid neck, chin, ear.

You flicker at me in jagged frames. Silence. Same dangerous motions, heights. Screeches. The earth, our contorted animals wrapping against each other as we dance.

I see their feral shadows at the fractures where the neon lights fades my limbs in a semi reflective puddle.

The storm and I flicker in jagged frames – Silence! the shadows, the possibilities falling to thought; Screeches! the water falling, that presence wrapped against my face, my hair, through my shivering back and neck.

If not for the moonlight exposure, I would follow the drops into the secret water hiding underneath, reach for that necessary emulsion and push against my mind, your skin into my body, your mind.