In my hand I
hold fascination,
slipping
through my fingers like silence…
you are no
longer in devotion,
like a
supplicant to violence…
God is empty,
like your poverty,
owning simple
and lasting treasures…
where I am
full of love, for a fee,
swollen with
endless carnal pleasures…
My lips are
plentiful with sweet lies,
heavy-lidded
eyes deep’ning with need…
love rises in
the depths of your eyes,
as you
forgive even my endless greed…
I am wounded
by a pale sword,
hung on
evening’s starry columbine…
flames will
lick eternally my cord,
082399