Poem
“…the soul is our…
We scale our wayup to the arch of the dome,fingers scraping desperatelythrough to the other-est of…
Her pupil isa poolof tiger stripedlightning,a stone smudged by the smokethat creeps frombeneath…
The movementof her eyecuts the finestof slitsinto the spacebetween us,as if revealinga curtainto be…