maîtresse de sorts

under
the wing
of your hand-fluff
soft image
I lean over
to him completely
collapsing from
an external light.


swaying


between
phantoms
into my
throat
silver
willow
I
am
just
a
mouth that
hums
to you
seamless.


longing lips
seared

with
pain
born in a
holy
hour

Hush, my
darling


mouth
to
mouth
we
have
been great
sleep
my heart.

..
...
sleep
I
long. for
your
taste in
a glass
of stars.

I
caught
his
breath in
my
hair
when the
last
feather fell
from
the sorrel
tree




he
turned
and
asked

what
is love?

I
said it
is
the misery.



as
above
as
so
below