For my dearest CharChar

Find the hour of the night
When your palm was bored into a cold silk metallic clasp
And it melted into a living bracelet around the lank bone of my wrist
How your echo lighted on the smoky breezes
And the libation of sweetly hookah
Clogged the finicky filter in my halved conscience

We were dancing in a medley duo of flesh
Until the tender bubble between us burst, and I
Could no longer remember polar solitude because of your inky touch

The mingled links of Rufus’s voice
Drown time itself
The cloying golden ambrosia Schloggers
Jives our minds and jinks our words
Until our tongues waggle with too much wonder to say
And we laugh until we forget we are laughing

All I know is that there is a glow inside your sheet of amber hair, and
That a fingerbreadth of halo hallows the feet of milady
There is a hole in my hip now (but I don’t mind)
That only your curled fist can occupy

In my dreams, I have had perspicacious vision
But now it only comes in the mornings when the pillows are folded
And your pacifying arms in hank with mine
Remind me shards of fog stick to my lashes
But you gave me sanitizing scissors to slice the blinds
Of nigrescent unsurety