that he did not have a body was not a problem
the absence of skin muscles blood bone

he enfolded me in wings 
felled like a willow
a thud, but not, more a shimmer
a crisscrossed beat 

he was a door that opened into me
and i followed as if blind

i was blind to all but the tracing of
what was exotic and so could not deceive
who became a rigid statue 
because his heart was carved in light

my rapture a call to distant places
his name in my mouth a zero

for how long can you contrive such a love?
his fierceness as he left was familiar

…

Ulrica Hume is the author of An Uncertain Age, a novel, and House of Miracles, a collection of stories, one of which was selected by PEN and broadcast on NPR. Her work appears online, in literary journals, and in anthologies. Find her @uhume.bsky.social