Sunblood (II)

and still
light does not leave

it settles

low- under the skin

i move through rooms
as if carrying a second sun

hidden but insistent

everything touches it

water
glass
my own hands

and i feel it

something
that asks to be kept

even in absence

even in the long
unlit hours

you are not here

and still

something of you
circulates

not memory

something warmer
more exact

like heat
trapped in stone

after the day is gone

i try to name it

but language fails

it always fails

so i do not name it

i carry it

this quiet
this gold
this undoing

until my shadow

begins to burn in glow