We recognized our other - selves baking in the furnace of a Holy Relationship; a hot crucible of an octave - a high note. in the dwindling and the withering we glowed and we grew. we walked into the no-light of the New Moon. we cracked open a lead egg it was full of hidden memories - atrocity and betrayal and roses that drew blood when you plucked them. the koshi bell skies were bright despite the dim Gemini new - lunar night.
what once we thought were vampire bats were one thousand albino doves who flew from thy heart while you sat inside the dark - trying to ***. one thousand doves were flying from thy heart while we discovered new alleyways between the west Lancaster streets and played detective solving criminal activity mysteries like partners walking the beat at half past three in the morning. we danced with the devil against the cobblestone. we forgave his filthy ***** deeds. the citronella candle light was gleaming in our minds and we were beaming then, dancing with our shadows against the bricks and the bible verses stenciled along the alley walls. we loved each other then even as we had been loved. our hearts were two bouquets full of peacock feathers.
King street meets Queen by a circle inside a square. we were as royalty then sitting with one another there on the bench regal open and free. we had let in the blood-letters and our hearts were a smeared bleed seeping into higher lines of time. we were happy then, I placed my hand on the front and the back of your heart and I saw you then under the yellow lights regal open and free. the Gemini winds were whispering like the wings of Hermes’ feet. your eyes were bright blue like how does the howling of the wind.. color and sound compressed and became as one. my words were flashing forth like royal jelly from the hive- or the Oil of Christ burning our tongues and foreheads like lilies of the white creator fire. Anointed, we saw each other then from the summit of a hill our hearts were two baskets full of rose petals.
but the dawn went down to day an american poet once said that “nothing gold can stay.” and I started seeing flies again in the kitchen - creepin and buzzing up against the windows, palmetto bugs at night on the concrete walkabouts, pit vipers hissing on behind me coiled up in whicker burn baskets and the low hanging branches of trees. they say honey doesn’t go bad but it only took 12 hours for mine to sour. I said mean things and I saw evil shapes cast against the walls. I went blind and deaf I couldn’t see all the beauty unfolding on before before me I couldn’t hear the hymns of peace being sung above the clouds. you said you’re about numb to it now; laying there curled up and inoculated from all my onslaughts. If i could, why I would take all those bad words of my dweller’s mouth and hide them in a poison pendant capped with an Ethiopian opal.
we both would know, of course that all those mean words with the serrated edges of the bitter ends of frayed nerves wouldn’t really be gone and that they’d still be there- just kind of locked away and hidden inside a poison pendant. but at least opals are beautiful.