in this spell we are stars from different galaxies.
“when the still day comes to an end,
both good and evil have been prepared.”
-george trakl
the fire in the stove is built from the sound of dogs howling.
this fire has howling to burn instead of wood,
and this fire is the edge of night, its sharpest corner,
its finest and longest dream.
this is the corner where the avenues of love and indifference meet.
'muddy waters' is playing a long blues riff on guitar
and i am kissing your lips, one lip at a time,
then you smile and the spell is cast in shadow and thought.
in this spell we are stars from different galaxies
that stand naked together,
toe to toe, face to face, shining.
we are as bright as the pleasure of living.
in this spell the earthquakes have names like old blues men
from another generation, from earlier decades,
with names like hambone and sonny.
i am lost, and i say that out loud for you ti hear.
there is a moth drawn to the light of the stove
the way that life is drawn to death.
the way that death is drawn to life.
that moth's time is almost up.
and you and i? you put your soft and gentle hands
to the sides of my face and pull me down to you,
and then you very gently bite my lower lip.
fire and time and spells mean nothing to us anymore.
james lee jobe
