a hand slides away
from the unblinking eye of the moon:
your bones betray you. again.
this is not. a sure. thing.
you are a tooth:
loose and bleeding
in the open mouth of the night.
leaves rot on the stairs.
blank memory
is no sure sign
you have not been here before.
moon slides away
from your hands; your bones
slide away from.
the moon slides away.
unfold. you cease to be
the paper crane, become
the empty page again--
back where you started,
blank. moonfaced.
the creases of your skin
are a map.
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