Dark Continent

I traveled there, diving
into your continent, traversing
you like a bee on a petal, sipping
your secrets like a hummingbird,
tiny but buzzing into the nectar,

believing that no one has known
these truths. The night you cried
in the kitchen your face hung
in my arms, painted like sorrow.
Who else knew these depths

nested within you? Jets of black
curled contrails, crept over flesh,
centered but loose in the skin. I am
an unwilling participant in a dream
built word by word cryingSave me

through a thousand tears,
and each crystal a snowflake
agonized into a story.
I should have closed the book
left you there in your garden

with your beer and car keys,
but how could I? That plaintive
sound, you weeping like a child,
and your mouth twisted to a plea,
I don't do well alone and us.