Opus

Waiting
Swallowed by ochre sheets
watching you
reveal the stars that
played under your paper skin
Outshining the voyeur streetlights
peering through my
windowpane.
Shedding
your veil turned shroud
turned impure refuse.
Your eyes
Calling
like sirens of melted viridian
from the shores of my doom
Sliding
across the floor
an apparition a wraith a spirit
your halo of fire
splayed along my bed
Illuminated.

Moving
to the tempo
of telltale hearts adrenalized
Conducting
an orchestra of motion
Strings and tendons stretched
Vibrating in harmony
Sighing woodwinds and
brass in frenzied calm.
Two frail bodies
Colliding
in the night, louder than
the most impressive percussion
Holding the last note on
a heavenly fermata
And the conductor never said stop.

Ringing
from the concert hall
bedroom like the sigh
sounded from a thousand
dying symphonic suns.
Fading
in the evanescent eruption.
The tendrils of night
Weaving
dread threads
into our heartstrings and
Plucking
their sour tune
maiming our melody
and
hacking our harmony
til the piano
was but firewood
to an empty flame.

12 October 20l0