A Late Night Visitor

My leg itched.
Domino dust was falling onto my skin.
It burned underneath the blanket.

Only with much effort did my sleep heavy eyes open.
I could hear the rain outside,
tapping my window, wanting to come in.
I was not alone.

I blinked.
I was in the shower, washing away the dust.
The burning stopped, but I wanted to stay longer, under the water.
I sat down, opened the shower door.

My fingers were beginning to prune.
The wrinkled landscape turned white with chill.
The constant churn of the water through the showerhead
drummed on the porcelain tub.

I saw the finger first.
The knuckle, large and blue, caught my eye.
A ring seemed to rest so precariously on the knuckle edge.
I wanted to push it back up to the palm of the hand,
as I often did to my own ring, when it had shifted with movement.
But there was no palm, just a gathering of fingers, curled.

A shape beamed from the dense steam,
hip bone, hem, elbow, a few toes.
Wisping in and out of clarity.
the beam of light and blue solidified part way.

This half person, headless, stood inches from my own dangling arm
Neither she nor I created a reflection in the mirror,
The fog, so thick, covered the walls.

That ring, it called like a beacon in violent waves.
A diamond wrapped in tiny circles, around and around
Silver and black.
I wished with all my being for my long ago wedding ring,
Buried somewhere deep, to find its way home this moment.
If I had a knife, I would have cut my finger off,
It screamed for companionship.

Her dress moved.
The fingers uncurled.
I could not longer lay still surrounded by water
but the leaden water pressed against my chest
like a train running over the tracks of my ribs.
My arm still dangled from the edge, limp.
My heart sang, a deep bellowing song of sorrow.
The ring, I must have it.
It would fit so perfectly on my cold wet skin
Its smooth silver wrapping my tender, soft skin.

The curled hand was soon upon me.
A loving hand to my cheek.
Such a comfort.
On my check, then through.
The ring, it was in my mouth.
I spit it out onto my fleshy belly.
Its shine, a dull rust.

There was no need for a towel when I stepped out of the shower.
I was just going to go back to bed,
and with the heat, a little air on my back felt good.
I was naked, but a small silver sliver around my finger.
I laid on the bed
Letting the night air smother me.

My toe began to wiggle
on its own.

She had followed me, wanting me to stay awake.