Friday, March 29, 2013

Poem, for Then

Selene

Literal ladders to the fire
ignited slow and hard…..
kindling
against me from behind
as the gargoyle floats
blaze on by, Southern vampiric
sun beams into shadow, night
succumbs, bends post-apocalyptic
carnival, thousands cramped together
Endymion ’06 and
you
one rung down, while I lean back
into the only gravity ladders grasp, fingers
latched fast, ever so imperceptibly
enabling thirstyatmosphere, dizzy here
Need you
and they can’t see, the pleasure
gyrating the center of this star,
but we’re conscious, too, of distant sanctions
best served once masks are removed, of
a coupling we cannot—
just the cusp, lost
to this crowd, borderline violet-soaked time,
so far flung from August eruptions
remember when I thought I’d never
see the city
that captivates us here even
as the bawdy goddess declines
and our limbs hang loose, vines. Later,
you fall, something sprained,
guilt
to pain, regret
washed away, though today
we cannot reach what was left aside
to accommodate flames flickering
temptation’s sweet sickening
and so it goes,
in your fashion, a kiss
on the cheek greeting becomes
arm taut ‘round torso, a look
we have to hold
to invisible rungs now, to
anonymous movements, to where
I cannot read your eyes, their

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