deanna sitting on the rooftop
rubbing barefeet across shingles
and eyes making empty love
with all the distance

stars like the finite ends
of rods streaming through
the black and the wind

deanna sitting in november heaven
pressin hard into tomorro
and backlit by constellations
so ancient mythic

with world stretchin out lethargic
in the cold, reaching down
into the soot and salvation
and the sea foam and teaming bustle

deanna statuesque cept for
fogged breath, dreams,
runaway hair in the updraft,
and a glisten