They stood, stretched with relief and fear,
the spilt night over everything.

The wall she was against was on the world’s edge,
her back against her shirt, her shirt against her coat,

her coat against the brick, its knuckle grit holding her on.
And beneath unspeaking clothes, he found her

ludicrously bare, peaceful, shocked,
as though her clothes had been her skin

her skin, flesh. I promise
they were absolutely ruined by its magic.