Praying down the gulley,

Slowed by the rainy mire,

I will discern, across the void,

Two flies winding a fire,

And a long thick leaf

Hanging on another,

And a leg of root and a leg

Of bough twining together.

That will be she forever:

Lightning bugs for eyes,

That see no farther in the dark

Than my own blind eyes;

A limp leaf for a cheek,

Cracking before it slips;

Tendril and twig for ankle bones,

And nothing at all for lips

But the unbodied mark

My mouth makes on the dark.