Your Heart Is Colder Than My Own I Think 02/?/93

Your heart is colder than my own I think
Somehow somehow somehow
But mine is older older older
Older than the cold
And you with your trellis of a body
Pricked with thorns but never scarred
Nestled up against that wall to deny
That the roots of your roses are
Really in the ground not up so high
A twisting turn of pleasure
An erotic hyper tense
A space of roses frozen
A thorn upon a lake makes
A scratch that is invisible from
Your knee on up up up
It's a scar upon the trellis
A scratch upon the plane
Which dissolves and then absolves
You are unscathed again
Sometimes your breasts are heavy
Sometimes they don't exist
Sometimes they're connected to your sight
Sometimes sometimes sometimes
Always there's the three
The triangle in the trellis
The corners of the globe
Which fold back and out and up
To reveal a pulsing stone
It's older than my heart which is
Older than the cold
And as it pulses it grows younger
The hunger hunger hunger hunger
Spills onto the stone
It lays there for an instant til
The next shudder the next pules
Then it lifts off in a cloud of steam
An evaporated eon
An ancient glow of time
This latticework this trellis
Has holes and spots to grip
And the roses slide right through
There is one vine one lengthy vine
You can see it once you try
It blooms up on the left your shoulder
And winds its way around your neck
And under your left arm and across
Your breasts which at this moment are
Connected to your eyes and slides back
Around your spine and once again it
Comes out from the tip of one thorn
Hovers o'er the place from where food first
Arrived and then it circles that volcanic
Spot and curls itself three times and the
Thorns do not get in each others way and they
Drink from the mist that rises up and up
From the evaporating time