You fade back into the mirror from whence you came,
Leaving nothing so much as a rose without its bloom
And a long expanse of glass streaming with diamonds.
I search the sparkling depths for your form,
Seeing only a shimmering light cast deep into an alien garden.
As the ghosts burst down long hallways screaming in triumph,
Leaping into misted rooms, I cover my ears and return with you
To beaches lapped upon by swirling turquoise foam.
We entwine in the mirror chamber, your arms mine, mine yours,
Your hair my sky, your eyes the velvet gaze
Of a distant lighthouse standing bravely on the shore.
We tremble, we shiver, we shake off images of flight along
Creaking thoroughfares, long slumber in the comfort of smoky bloom,
And those parted crimson desires which so rarely enfold weary bodies.
We know our time is brief, we shall shortly be whisked away to clouded towers.
The robed and hooded kings prance upon the rafters, calling down upon us
A world of broken chalices and loaded dice, sly queens and desperate jokers.
They've closed up the tunnels, and our mirrors mock us, pressing their icy
hands along
Smooth folds of flesh held tight, so nearly covered and protected.
Gasping through tangled hair and pressing warmth into every empty place,
We melt into the marble floor and slide through the catacombs,
Fleeing the holy city astride the ancient lover's ivory horse.
Wails echo across jagged towers as iron gates spew forth steaming resentment:
We are lost, we are lost, but something will be spared though spears prick
flesh
And shields batter upon swollen lids--a grace which endures and will not die.
Whirling into an angelic haze, it inclines its head sadly, sighing up
Through the universal canopies and into the streaked mirrors of another
time and place.
The waters of the mind flow outward in search of distant ports,
Bearing upon their arching backs incredulous sailors
Packed like moon-white eggs into a towering crow's nest.
What myriad wonders, what sparkling heights of godliness they've surely seen!
Would that some glimpse of eternity would stretch forth through mists of
tim
To ease the burning beads of sweat which bore into the consciousness.
But all my message bottles bob wickedly in an empty desert of silent
green-blue,
And only the vacant echoes of a sailor's gasping laughter
Keep trembling hands stray of iron valves.