the crouching darkness she gathers
an urgent flock of moths demanding a candle-light.
body whitely stirs, so precious in its beckoning.
match is struck,
hurls herself into the soft wax, reaching deeply
deeply can they reach and why is it important to?, he wonders).
seek to bring each other to one containable dimension
a mutual herbarium,
an ecstasy of flattening
love can perform.
the wise dawn there are moths
in a chaos of tortured wax.
is a miracle she and he continue to flutter
light in the empty corners of themselves,
only there -
there is no other wisdom at dawn
is less complete than having, surely.
And is it completeness they seek to have?
wonders at the easy attainment of inscrutable desire).
an entry, the sphinx remains a monster of history
vistor cannot share.
in their exhausted possession
rise for something else already
if something else
bring them relief.