“The people you love become ghosts inside of you and like this you keep them alive.”
Night pours its ink–
the color of Anubis sorting hearts,
the black blades of feathers–
on the slatted roofs of the city.
In the golden light of our room
my hair, shower-wet and fragrant, messies itself
in your fingers, curls across the fine bones
of your wrist like hieroglyphs.
In your hands
like heavy-hearted stone,
tablets of strange cursive alphabets,
the throbbing bones of dead languages
you press into me, sink down deep into
the soft red pillows of organs
until I shatter
like a canopic jar.
in the naked dark,
jackals roam the desert
crying out to one another
across the moon-pale throat of the river
like the ghosts of lovers.
Amber Decker is the author of two volumes of poetry, Sweet Relish and Lost Girls. Her work has been featured internationally in venues both in print and online. In her spare time, she can either be found at the gym or parked in front of her Playstation. Amber spends her days disguising herself as a diligent student of English literature; she lives in West Virginia with a spoiled dog and an evil cat.