VII

Groom
How beautiful
your feet,
the joints of your thighs,
your navel,
your stomach,
your breasts,
the curve of your neck,
your eyes.

Your face is crimson.
Your hair is purple.

The roof of your mouth
makes me talk in my sleep.

Bride
I am yours
and your desire for me.
I am a prisoner.

My hand is near you.
My heart rises in my chest.
My fingers feel your warmth.

I touch you.

I fall back
so I can see you.

You cruise low
over the dark city
washed in crimson glow.