Oasis in the Ashes

A palace of crowded rooms
in which to be lonely,
I need your light to
make my shadow their fait
accompli in our stillness to
survive your artistry without sacrificing
it, a painterly juxtaposition of
two lovers’ faces, the lights
went out in Paradise, sex
is just an act always
ready for the French Press,

a moment that quotes only,
itself completely sexual and completely
sexless at the same time,
jealous that the only part
of me you’ve been inside
so far is my mind,
the neighbour you hate is
also god, overturned unadorned, you
didn’t sell your soul to
the devil, you sold it
to the public, doubled down

on never being humble, watching
old movies, or any, is
viewing memories, ghosts, footage of
the dead, people who no
longer exist, or ever did,
your contract with your audience
is that they get to
separate your soul from your
skin, has-been and never-was, rendered
artificial by familiarity, build a
tomb that isn’t a grave.