Ʌ

                    Extremes meet, chains link, when you bend
to my whim, gripping that fence on
your knees, little keys in my hands

                                        when I fiddle with your locks and,
                    in the middle of the last song,
                    extremes meet, chains link when you bend

                    to breaking your curfew, open
yourself, and put it in—my wand,
your knees—little keys in my hands,

                                        things of which Muses whisper, sin
                    on magicians’ fingertips dawn’s
                    extremes meet, chains link, when you bend

                    horizons with unrepentant
trust in my thrusting, running down
your knees, little keys in my hands,

                                        these beads lust drops like sweat heaven
                    sends, grinning endings to trysts, calm
                    extremes meet, chains link, when you bend
                                        your knees, little keys in my hands,

                                        V

                    these seeds on which we feast, a cock
and crow chained by love to this rock,

                                        eating out our hearts with tongues bold
                                        and Promethean enough to hold

                    back laughter and fill holes hungry
for wisdom with secrets, feeding

                                        our meter, instead, deviant
                                        currency pulsing with current

                    affairs this lurid shouldn’t have,
not when chemistry makes of bad

                                        alchemy a golden touch not
                                        even Midas-most-profligate

                    could handle, treasure too hot, wealth
too impossible to count, hell’s

                                        mouth jealous of what yours can do,
                                        how, with kisses, souls thought lost throw

                    off their cloaks and lie down for you,
opening doors, swallowing coals
                    night in its nude pursuit rides raw.