Before the carving starts,
before steel splits skin
that does not blanch
at your gloved touch,
let your eyes wander
— scalpel shoulder to shoulder —
in wonder at how
I might have been.
Muse
over fusion
of pubis, ischium, ilium,
hum theorems to the expanse
of non-Euclidean space
braced point to point
by those innominate bones;
brood over pointless histories
held
dependent on all burnt &
topless towers;
conjecture that a lover coming
from behind would spiral
eternal galaxy of mouth,
mortise each immortal kiss
into the abyss between scapulae,
press the heels of hands
atop hips till fingertips touch,
pinion small bowl of belly
in an unmeasurable variant
of our current circumstance.
Puzzle
over half-heard
words: infinite fractal symmetry;
imagine that we met on occasion
for coffee & quantifiable
chaos:
— that when you make me
laugh, non-linear dirges groan
low & dark from mottled
throat;
that when I turn to rest a gaze on
you
my red hair flares chromodynamic
truth & beauty in proton & neutron;
that my blown eyes spark charmed
& strange from within — green
charged particles — nocturnal
animals.
Creature
of cold storage habitat,
cryptologist of
some almost remembered articulates,
when you re-pack that chronic
cavity,
when you set your seal in sutures
against this sad bag of reticulate
skin
— shut the drawer
go home
fix yourself a stiff
drink & dream of me
transitional, in every universe;
hypostatic in the basement.
(Dark Planet)