i press my body into my one in particular , begging the mud , the rocks , the shed , begging them all please to let the temperature fall , please , let it fall- -my one in particular and i on a summer 's night after a young lifetime together , washing ourselves in the bucket of water our master provides once a week , washing ourselves , washing one another , and making the surprising discovery that another kind of closeness is possible- -my one in particular silently with me after our voices are stolen by the clearing , after we are cut off from each other and placed on separate shores , as if calling across a chasm too far to hear , my one in particular slowly , gently , through clicks and gestures , trying to make me understand- -my one in particular rising when the shed door is opened and the clearing are there with their guns and their blades , my one in particular standing before me again , protecting me for the final time- the sky lets me go as i call out , the horror alive again in my voice , alive like it is happening just now , all over again- you miss him , the sky shows .