I. I would ensconce my eyes

And exist in padlocked souls

 

II. Her womb only bore shadows

She was a carousel in a sea of rollercoasters

 

III. Quartz moon coalescing

Into a crystal ball of shadowy séances

 

IV. Butterflies morph into syringes

Bullets undulating from clandestine graves of scythes

 

V. Everything is a miracle of despair; everything is burdened then emptied

Great River of hoarse bells giggling between irises and toenails

 

VI. Night lashes me with its sash of smoke

It girdles the arteries of a clotting hope

 

VII. My sister weeping as if the earth within a long slumber

Till then her roots ache, her heart of anchors in the dead ocean

 

VIII. Sing, dance and consume fleshy questions of the sand

Queen of pocket-watches, clockwork moon-throb

 

IX. My mother left for Rasputin in an overcoat of despair

Numbered, honeyed, Love will set her free from the Beautiful Beast

 

X. I existed in the book of brine, between indents and margins

Dying from the moon’s blood staining my graphite compass

 

XI. Because I dis-imagined you

Oblivion in graveyards, wombs, voices

 

XII. Because of abrupt storms of ivy on grade schools

Where a gramophone in a rose vinyl sounds

 

XIII. When your green eyes close into nuptial dreams

I wake into midnight alleys, memories reeling, penetrating abstinent skin

 

XIV. As you begin to dream

I rise in misery

 

XV. So aloof that reciprocity died on Sunday,

Anguish’s waves engulfed the world’s lighthouse and our hearts

 

XVI. My soul is a belfry assaulting virgin skies

And you my eyelids, shutters severing the sky of its fishy nets