she holds the weapon

i can see the blue
amongst the various shades of gray.
but the flesh,
soft contours and
cold concrete.
the sun.
but don't look too long.
arcs of fire burn
the eyes and
a certain shade
the gray, oh
to see her in
the snow.
head down, eyes fixed
again i see the flesh
her lips...
it is the sheer velocity
that burns the hole.
its that hair on the back of her neck
and its the lowest part of her back, bare.
those hips.

i sense the illumination,
feel the color,
the opposing grain,
omitted heat and
layered steel.
there is simple combustion
rehearsed reaction
then the silence...
all you hear above
all other distraction,
no claim at ignorance,
no exit.
inseparable to the lack of it.
it.
that which is unexplainable.