Sky of nights cast iron heat- the hot breath and the cauldrons. I lie staked to her claim. The Evening has me under her skirt and a rope 'round the ankles. I breathe in my exhale… wearisome I vent my own black mouth. Teardrops hiss at the gravel; the crazed torrent flattens. The metallic sky that hangs over my brow is my ceiling-the great light bandit. My eyes hibernate in their deep dark pots, and I want white linens to cocoon me up. With morning comes a shine and a turning of lights into my window, a child that is spiraling. The sky’s smog lies inside our dumpsters from last nights regret. Sky burns blue, canvas is ready.