idolatry

from the bed
he bled out
in her image;
devout
as the span
of her palm.
finished in a new grey and
feigning a calm
but never quiet,
she forever would be
his confinement.

she speaks thirst
syllable upon
rhythm with spins
he can
magnetize. she
plagiarizes
his ache
in his undressing
tease; he needs
no tantric healing
now.

he twists in spoiled spiral
and fucked fractal,
faster than the flick
of her dactyls
and greedily laps
at her vaulting capsule;
these are the seams
as they seemingly lapse.

she buries vows
with hungry
precision, turns
upon his tilt
with split lilt-
conformed-to-
lust. she dusts
her trust off his flaky
clavians; this
is the start,
the end
the in-between.