Failure of the Night

The fleshy bone

And silky waves

have been ironed on

time and again

collecting dust

on a shelf of absolutes

It was too fine

the first time you told me

About failure of the heart

Failure of the night

Failure to catch a wave

Failure to make sense

Make meaning

I underestimated it now in a way

I couldn’t have when

the bones were made of flesh

When my flesh hung

Around us in the air