Second

Think what it is to be second
And to be true fire
But licking around the face of a first
An attractive vampire
A pale prophet with face like candle wax
Because first love
Stones worn on the feet of dreams
As ridiculous sandals
Sink love’s body again and again
Think doom
To be as earnest as a green spring branch
As resilient
But unable to burn
Until autumn turned you bone
Turned your lover to bone
And your foliage dry and truer than ever
Frail and close at the closer end