the patchwork series. 1. Rebirth

How his fat gold watch grows…it beats me to a slow tic,
To become a blister of frivolous hate, signed with a dull mute voice;
Once filled with bestial remorse, then ravaged by desire  duly  forced;
Only to be rolled out by lust’s tearing hate in this slow tear gate.

Now if I could raise
Her dark body to my own,
Our voices would echo  in this  sacred place, magnifying times glow.
For here our bones will rustle, in this glory  blaze

All night your moth breath folds my moist flower
I am awake to listen to the swollen sea that glistens
To where his eyes slowly rise  in a  deadly gaze

Now as he awakes  I  hear one  cry  and stumble  from  the  bed.

With passionate death’s sweet haste,
I see  a  Victorian  floral nightgown,
And your mouth slowly open as a cat’ window  space.

So here I come with a slow sung rapture,
Through her hate exsanguination is a tear filled tear;
Out  From where her body sweats sweet and are not so nearly broken,
while  I, a handful  of mere notes,  Now let out clear vowels, 
Amid a frame of pale blue balloons.

© adh 2015