So Broken a Gaze
What struck me of you was not the stillness
with which I one day pray I may be,
nor the violet corset violent round you,
and still such an easy breath.
'Twas not you as the evidence of
fantasy that gave me unrest (nor
did it offer exaltation), or the moss rings
encompassing your pupils to which I was
rapt, and indeed I was transfixed.
I recall now that to your unwavering domain of
boundless splendor did I entrust my heart,
in the interest of one day engraving my
forsaken name on the immaculate slate, over
the locked, lusted body of bounty and pleasure.
To which you held the key. To which I waited
for admission. Too proper a man was I
to swim among such murky waters?
Too wise a woman were you
to grant me access? Nay, for what was
to come proved to all of your hypocrisy.
For two names now
lie on the granite slate, and in inscribing
yourself, you surrendered the key. Trapped,
we are, belatedly offering condolence, still
thirsting the elating fluids.