Swilling Sanguine Storms

 

Pulsing thirst of night
(pouring fast)
a storm-teased cocktail
quenching gleam.

Uncorking rocks
in your realm of ice,
my clinking teeth
on the twinkling din.

Your salt-wary eyes
are cloaked in wing.

Slowly, they swell
with molting rage
in a cask of age

{as the window keeps
 to your secret weep}.

Heavenly dust
is harkening crust,
wrenching fire
& killing hot
with cold-hearted care.

Purpled cuts roar
your thunderous wonder,
a curious blue
keens your gash of sight.

(My own wettened rage
 still gnashing wretches,
 the cackling breath
 of a wight bite
 swagger.)

& red is raining
at the gape
of your blade,
it slides across
your mad copper moon
while tasting the edge
of my thunder cream
thoughts:

a path chop sway
to a knotting watch
as we skin our teeth
to the buzzing free.

& my nights still thirst
for that cloak wing gaze
as our distance drinks
of the afterglow.