Onyx Mirror



For A Selfie-Taker. 



Never the form, at first: the physicality

Pressed against itself, the tendons tense

From glorious exposure; but the lips.

That is the first reflection to be felt.

Not a smile, snarl, or smirk is seen thereon,

No sneer or kindness: but perhaps, a secret

Pursed upon decision, playful silence,

And his reticence. Hidden like this,

Unspoken name, or the first word he breathed –

Those lips know something some would die to guess.

So through this lens of a distant, subtle screen,

In a handheld onyx mirror, an impossible kiss:

Feign to kiss this mirror, for me – please.






Image may contain: 1 person, playing a musical instrument and guitar



ARIEL to Miranda: Take

This slave of music for the sake

Of him who is the slave of thee;

And teach it all the harmony

In which thou canst and only thou

Make the delighted spirit glow

Till joy denies itself again

And too intense is turn’d to pain.


When first we touched, you smelt of smoke,

Of one-night bars and ice.

Your perfect hollowness, as though

It echoes even mine.

That gentle protest as I stroke

Your neck; and when you bite

My fingertips and moan: I know.

Our hips and waists align.

These wires, I could strangle you,

So artful, leaning in,

I pace my breath. You’ll hurt me, too.

Hold tight, as we begin.



I called my new guitar Sapphire for a number of reasons: knowing full well that it could be the name of a good time girl somewhere in Florida. 





death's head moth.jpg


In return for my eternal wait,

You would feed me honey; and lovingly, nightshade,

Grow my comforts; keep me safe, and warm,

And place my chrysalis as the final song

Of your last victim. A flutter in the throat.


When at last, they look back on us both,

And all that we achieved, where will it tingle?

Which piece will I miss the most, once it’s removed?

Will you offer a kiss goodbye? Before

I emerge: a flutter in the heart, imago.




Inspired by Silence of the Lambs. Dedicated to Blair.