Bride of the Eye

     Coffin in a brothel
and neither of you complain

being boxed in has a way
     of making bearable


     strangers taking the place
disaffection digs a grave

alienates but cannot
     bury what bodies say


     your wash-off flesh melts mouths
rivulets lips into kiss

pastel pastiches of us
     eyes twin with reflections


     fire touches with madness
lit torches lifted flicker

to flutter lids fading to
     eclipse lashes winking


     breathless wax poetics
candle drip attracts wet us

with tears your sight blinding mine
     crying bride of the eye


     satirize by never
sanitizing our mirror

voyeurs pour their own over
     paramours disfigured


     it figures before your
conjured image disappears

its heat works pendulum pulls
     whose feat it is none hears


     ever not even after
how powerful a prayer our

egos altared echo fears
     together we devour.