Yearning, hold a candle
to the naked hourglass of
wind and time.
Singular form with
a cup, full of the desert.
While you sway
with the eyes that follow
repeated, understood rhythms,
count the heart’s thuds
before the one
against a bed of flesh.
In love with death
who possesses breath,
still with the sin
breaking in with her kin,
her kind who stirs
inside this mind.
Attention and privacy
given, in desire and uncertainty.
We are
naked, in a casket,
sighing with hum and hymn, –
begging for Hell,
praying for Heaven
to stay the flame.
Water in our eyes,
a desert between us.
A flag buried in the sand
where time fell from earth
to remind us
where we will land.
Modern Romanticism 