i am that dime-at-arm’s-length moonblink,
that tapetum flash of a rabbit bounding into cattails
at the sound of your laboured breath.

i am the halt in the rhythmic dealer’s shuffle
of the cricket in the evening’s final sigh.

i am that tiny fall like an elevator’s jolt
as you wake: no map, no name, and no mouth.

i am a quickened step, a sharply drawn breath,
a tug on the filament of your much-entangled heart.

pay me the salary of your tears,
and i may take my leave,
but heed me, for i know my craft and custom.

though your terrain may warp and stretch,
the signalfire is lighted still,
incandescing in that eyeless dark to guide me home.