"You tempt in me…so much…
a sparrow...a lamb… a tenderness… and the captive heart… that beats against my palm…
the bonds…. of trust.. surrendered"


to the silver nepenthe of your voice,
stricken upon the thick red heart
I've pinned to a map,

See, it emits grace
beneath the molten glass,
strung through harp strings and stretched
as sutures ,the solemn musculature of ecstasy
bound in golden ropes and belladonna dreams,

Let the white darts fall
where they may

This silence belies the song
in my throat, hovering
like a silver bauble, your face
is dark, back-lit, harbouring
the terror of words that burn...

My heart
holds the cinder of secrets,
and little poison idols of hematite
and gooseflesh...

Our dream box collects its damp light
from the dark corners of our prison,
as you coax a banyan tree
from its arousal...

A totem filled with marzipan,
and trembling, but to split
its lip upon glass cages,
wrought with jade...

Hold the sparrow face-up,
let the furrow of its wings, tempt
the fates, as it sings to the same scythe
that chimes against the dead angles of the soul's crucified geography....