Erotomania

  


 There's a lust for an age
 behind the phantom beam.

 A sky to moss this stony drag.

 & I am gloved in love
 by a swallowed dove
 with the eyes to match
 a skyline blur.

 I am burned in turns
 yon Valleys of Death
 through the breath
 of the dirt
 beneath your skirt.

 These degrees of shade
 are weak in the knees
 as you split my wits
 to dawn with ease.

 & my guts are yours
 past shattered doors.

 Yet there's a hanging gape
 for thrusting brass
 that's hung with a spine
 of whalebone tacks.

 & I flesh this machine:

 flexing heat to corpse-heart.ice,
 a welting melt of wing & voice
 on this knot you clot
 'round my nail of sight.

 Tears cum gravel
 through cocksure slaughters.

 The wind in my laughter
 calls your water home
 so I rest in the crest
 of your kissing moon.

 So steel me when you heal me.

 Espy your face
 above a glowing page
 with the flame to sheen
 this moaning scribe.

 I am burned in turns
 by this hollow yearn
 with a heart to match
 an angel's cure.