“My flesh craves your scent, // to clothe itself in your / musk this mouth wants to / lap up more than the / nourishment of anything else, and…”

“Topple your incense into an obelisk of / thirst, discourage ashes from working their magic / against your face’s blank canvas, go forth / wounded in your wandering…”

“True of voice, may no / shadow arise between your footsteps / and your will. Unity follows / those whose intent knows no / doubt. Should you have fallen…”

“Heartbeat in the dark, silence / the wailing of the singer’s / wandering shadow mourning / the loss of what it wants but / never will have, emerge full…”

“Dawn is a crack between worlds, the thorn-prick // of bramble-lipped mourning bristling without warning against the / flesh-melting milk-velvet of our kisses, perverting to poison / their…”