Debi Cimo - Midnight

It was touching on midnight,
fingers frostbitten in the black ice on my coat.
(A thousand-footed night between the stars and earth.)
“Ignited, ” you’d said, a two-tiered revolutionary.
“Ignited like the wind on fire.”

Fire living in the cold, as if the ice was fuel itself.
The distance threw itself beyond the stars.
Smooth and delicate, like a flyaway feather.

Then it sank like an old amnesia.
I remembered then, the point of you.
And me.
I heard my lips hesitate a reply.
There was nothing I could even think
that could give voice to the borealis of
this invisible midnight.
Or the warmth of your hand on me.

Debi Cimo

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/midnight-3/