In an exhausted room

darkness oozes from corners

to gather around my chair


A candle swallows itself

to an ebb of glowing wick

wisping its spirit


A strange woman enters

my room and kisses

the top of my balding head


She lays three coins

on my desk and leaves

trailing a fabric of fragrance


the sweetness of the cedar

when its needles have been

prayed between fingers


I use the accrual of darkness

as ink and record the sum

made of the coins


They disappear

and it is time to lie in bed

becoming what remains