He stands
in a doorway
where winter begins

dreaming to sleep
to be still
enclosed in a journey
where real names
scar the faces
of his fingers
with cloudy skies

During brittle hours
of embrace
he no longer is afraid
of exile or wintry arms
detaching themselves
from touch

At twilight
unspoken shapes
weld themselves
into something
he can remember
in the darkness
of an early rain

In the darkness
unraveling down
long corridors
he goes thin
a single light
between walls that widen
into a shadow when one looks
for what is hidden

in promises left behind