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
