Rapture
Smoke imitates her ebony hair. She sleeps
while curled in the ghost of a cigarette.
Songs are wrapped around her,
music caresses her skin
each note, a kiss, enfolds her
then floats away in the wind.
I found her hiding in the puffed grey branches of a tree
with a cobweb of spider dew spun around her heart.
The spider gave a warning
with a soft evening whisper in my ear.
She is dreaming in a cocoon of a pale moon
in a damson sky.
She is the chrysalis of the girl I love.