I wish I could say she’s hanging on by a thread, but reason has slipped through Marian’s enfeebled fingers. Quaking with the piercing numbness of want, all that’s left in her tremulous hands is my tangled cradle of strings.
She burns to soar amongst the stars, to be a pinion fixed in the sky, but she can’t control her trajectory. As constellations crystallize, she shoots up into the thinned air only to tumble back to Earth, and I twist in the comet tail of her plunging shadow.
Her incandescence holds my orbit, but I can’t attune Marian to her gravity.