Post by amelie on Feb 21, 2004 18:54:58 GMT -5
I have burned with it;
Daubed in sulphur
On a pyre piled high,
That crackles and singes
In flare of flaming hair,
Fretting the night
With golden motes,
As they sizzle in sparkling
Halo around my boiling flesh;
As breath scours and tears
In the howling wind-rush,
And scorches the shrieks,
Sucking all voice into silence,
Before that eyes bubble in
A shimmer of sheeted flame,
Tasting my body,
Like the lick and sear
Of a furious lover;
Peeled to the flesh
And the gash of my sex;
Staked and spread apart
As a heretic on a cross,
On a bed of ash and cinders;
Like last night’s rape,
Abandoned to smoulder
In a morning wasteland;
The embers of passion,
Pored over for a trinket;
Some smouldering tissue,
That once was tender,
Now a charred, bitter,
Black debris; just
Conflagrated blown dust.
Love? Yes, I know love;
I hover over its remains;
A ghost dancing in the smoke.