I stare at your golden head

and let the wells run out.

I watch the streamers

of green light reach

fluttering over the mouths

of all doors.

I see you in a column of steam

from a confusion of wounded windows,

eyes chiming with the secret

charm of my soul, freckled throne

where my tongue surrenders,

deep valentine core

with a torso of hooks and thistles

the spirit's missile

in a ring of doves

cutting clouds like rubber

I lay on the beach with my ribs open

with my nimbus of brass bells

with my limpid shackles

shadows glued to the retreating moon

two keys in a vine tangled

blood soothed by a sparkling scar

dew glinting on resurgent ruin.