St. John of Capistrano (patron saint of jurists)

you blew out a candle

and I mistook it for a ghost.

I watched your car

drive into that fog

like it was a thick

and smoky lung.

the day stuck to my skin

like a tick, like drips

of fresh honey.

I need you to be

here when I get back.

I need you to be

here when both of us

get back.