There’s a Fragrance to Light

There’s a fragrance to light—
it won't let you forget
filling with ashes and loneliness—

it’s now more difficult to breathe
somewhere that wants to be forgotten
as a dark cry that belonged to the sun—
it broods a full 24 hours
and its scent holding fast
makes a crust: this light

knew it would be made from wood,
would burn even its first cry
kept near your heart growing to fit
the day that’s longer than all the others—

the light becomes too heavy, stays damp
though no one is weeping in your arms—
you breathe in the way this mountain
is holding you and on the way home.