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.
“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.
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.
The light pains him: he prays
Of one night dreaming under
The crazed whitening gaze
Of the moon’s lidless slumber.