She hides tonight in the frosted mist,
In the half-shaped curves of ice and light.
She hides in the damp-petaled leaves
That swoon from sun-bitten trees.
In the sky's drenched-cotton folds
And in the crispness of the grasses.
She hides tonight in halogen hallways
In rose-light behind dirtied curtains.
In the crack and beat of guilt-quick footsteps.
She hides in the breeze upon the spine,
In the dying sound of lovers' hate
And the stomach's ulcerous heat.
She hides in the rain-pearled webs
In the rotted squeak of wood-worm planks.
She hides in the bottle-necked, pineal rush,
In the mucus spice upon your lips.
She hides in the spider's liquid womb,
In her black-silk spawn about to burst.