Outline of shadows

Today must have been Friday everywhere,

many angels have fallen
to the pavement from rooftops.

Friday is not a day, but a compound tense

subjunctive, future, plural, past perfect.

A customs post on the border

that separates the living from the surviving.

It must have been Friday

and you are not with me.

But your absence is advancing

viscously like a dense levee.

Your soul surrounds me, somnambulant, celestial

determined to turn weightlessly inside me
emerging from everywhere, bursting with
everything
returning to nothingness, that synonym
of a Friday night and an empty bed.