Betrayal

On that day in the hour of the long knives
I slept and dreamed of you arcing into my body
cleaving fiercely to the comfort that only I could give
but was not able — and awoke empty, the pillow damp

bandaged incisions and a deep furrowed feeling
the only solid evidence you were ever here
and I clung to the fact of your fleeting presence
as you passed slowly as the hours, bit by bit

moving through me, soft and slow as the red
silk handkerchief in a magician’s hand.