cataclysms

I love your fawn

And amber couture

And your moley

Blink of torture

When the light

Falls

Like a knife

I love your sifting

Rain of questions

And your open

Toes and thighs

I love your glimpscious

Provocations

When the mention's

Made of faith

And of touching

Dare I say it

Brushes with

Your time and space

We are baskets

Made of neon

Cataclysms

Given birth

We collect

Ourselves like mushrooms

And our perfume

Is commended

By the Angels

And the tzars.

Sent from my iPhone