< 1
after Joseph Cornell and Stéphane Mallarmé
Before you left,
my throbbing wings
morphed cupped hands;
tendons, quadriceps,
an ensemble
of moon-toned flesh
over flared bones.
From arabesque to pirouette,
your fingers guided
my wasp waist
like flaming tongues.
When we flew,
our bodies blurred
into one glowing Sirius
and its white dwarf,
spinning a funnel
of never-ending trust.
Last tender nuzzle,
locked-soul gaze,
your fairytale promise
drifting like phantasmic
mist.
Now, swathed here
in my useless exile,
motionless
as our preserved dance,
my feathery form
floats in the frosty
mirror lake
of this shadowed
nightly box,
defiantly resigned
to love and be
silent.