Have no regret.
Before you turned I'd fled, my back to yours,
Along that path of bone and cinder and, ignis fatuus,
Winked out of sight.
Drawn in the draught of your desire
I'd followed dumb, as sparks fly skyward,
Ignorant of night—
Till sense began to swarm in me,
Each step reared up mountainous,
And limbs, lagged with flesh, felt sudden weight.
A dreamer gasps from drowning, wakes to panic—
So the unspooled hours wound tight
Again about my throat,
My veins, embalmed in Lethe's water, seeped with blood,
Eyes recongealed their jelly—
Thus I saw you pace before, more shade than man,
Cradling that dearer-than-a-child
With which you'd plucked me, quickened, quivering,
Ever your reverberant