When the bonfire of drunken gods
rose, unattended, past their control
& burned a heart-shaped breach in black velvet,
gaping immodestly, carelessly
exposing an intimate decimal of sky
that contorted, naked & furious
at the imposition,
the invasion, the rudeness, the cheek of it,

you were there. You saw it all
and didn't compound the violation
by averting your eyes.

Politeness nothing -
   when the universe cracks open,
   when the cards tumble into a yes,
   when the seventh veil hits the floor,
politeness is an insult.

But morning slammed
a bright blue boudoir door,
all pretty priggish prudishness,
white lace & cotton. Cotton-mouthed,
hung-over, groggy and ashamed, the erstwhile

savages pretended it never happened.
No one saw it.
Until it never happened.
Until no one saw it,

in all its flame-framed glory
but you. So let them walk
beneath boudoir blue skies,
daylight-glazed eyes and all.
You know what's there,

behind black velvet.
You know what's waiting.