by p q laertes

1228

Watching the sky turn to fire,
the woman with desire in her hand,
is like the moon rising over a spire
in a city on the edge of the sand.

This woman, desire in her hand,
tells the story, in whispers and cries:
To a city on the edge of the sand,
came a pale man with flame in his eyes.

Promises, whispers, and lies,
ecstacy turning to shame -
the pale man with flame in his eyes
and the woman who takes all the blame.

Shame and ecstacy, one and the same
and she asks him, how much do you want me?
She opens, accepting the blame,
and her blood is all, earth, sky and sea.

She asks him, how much do you want me?
And he takes her - his heart is a shipwreck,
the taste of her blood is the sea
and he drowns in the shape of her neck.

1995

He holds her, his passions in check.
The promise she make of a cure,
and the curving sweet shape of her neck . . .
Oh, to stand in the morning with her.

He waits in the darkness beside her
while the moon's setting over a spire.
The promise she makes of a cure
is the smallest part of his desire.
Watching the sky turn to fire