Last Year's Blessings

You slept in my bed
  gathered what you could
  before our power recoiled
  on itself and soiled my finery

I was sacrificed at twilight
  when blue art
  like dissonant foghorns
  birthed harmonies
  unexpected
In the morning I thought
  the sky might look different

Now you have gone
  I hear chanted incantations
  the refrain of my pulse
  No attempt to correct
  Honoring my need to be wrong