She asked if she might sleep a while
On the harsh slate floor
And lay as cool as milk
Thin as gauze
We quietly watched, put some more logs on the fire.
Her opalescent skin
Took all the corners of the room in. Refracted in her mother of pearl world
Stubborn oak beams become slender columns of light.
Handmade candles, chandeliers.
Her light butterfly breathing
Soothed callouses, filled hunger.
I did as I was told
And gathered the cobweb creature in my arms
Led her to my bed.
I half expected her to be gone
In the morning, desiccated by light.
© Becky Deans