He wraps her in warm ropes and folds her into his fluid shapes
of twisting need. He carries her down whispering hallways
and lowers her into his glimmering mirage. He strokes
her bare back with hands of sun, leaving an
ethereal trail of heat along her snake of bones.
With beauty like a sea horse, she curls her grace
around his feet and she swims. In his pool of fevered debris,
truth and treachery embrace in a gorgeous blaze, their bodies bloody
with familiarity. He kisses her with tender fury in the bending light, pulling
her into his window, the fractured frame holding it all together. He leaves
her carved and addicted, and says he will be right back.
He never comes.