l'

i.
my ankles shattered
in the realm of old goddesses
and flattered my inflection
and impressions
in mattresses

bold,
your best chiaroscuro mentions
lulling my eyes
down

into pits
of stomachs
and wrists
wrung


ii.
like you'd hung
the phases
and sent souls
to blazes
and made passing mention
of the way this
rhythm turns your pulse
to ice

there are pleasant ways
to lock eyes
and bite


iii.
golden locks
on brilliant chests
in fortresses
and slender trips
down daunting eras

this code
is error-prone
but woven
by seraphs

and when that arch buckles
i will be
the force dividing