The Luxury of Tears

in a phallic, stone tower we rise and fly or stand knee-deep in water
skin is smooth and damp every time he crosses them
and there are bones in bed with that child,
a figure behind the glass, me in his mouth
the man has come and gone, aroused my photographic memory
orphan sons and his raw hands [were slammed in his face]
like fire under whores insect, smiling eyes project rain
blaze against his teeth
the luxury of tears burned my fingers, spinning devils of snow
the luxury of tears burned my fingers, spinning devils of snow
oh devils must know the luxury of tears
changing his shape, he raises his eyes, eyes masked with green
threw out his arms, pulled open the door
a moist, sour tongue down the silver screen
usher in the bleak years
through his yawning neck
i undress his throat,
a passion for dust
[was slammed in his face]
pulled them down by the wings
a rose from my ribs
stole back up the stairs
[and laughed in his face]