Seeded yeast in her beak and bending
down mouth to his mouth. Kisses
mismeant, reversal just lurking. Abrupt and walks off.
An abyss sunders them.
She with a love of the beautiful bordering
on excessive frivolity. He with his science and thievish
propensities. An unnatural bonhomie. He kissed her
wing and folded it
over faux fingers fretted feathers and false
all false and falling.
Mouth to her ticking. Time stopped
in a tea shop. My, doesn’t this taste? The repertoire ending
in a dance dress, black and sleek
(Wouldn’t Lydia like to see her now, all sisterenvy).
In the morning, left to her lovedream, her rapt regard retrained
onto the window. Is someone rapping? No, the wet wind
rain-veined and soaking the roses. Tomorrow tariffed but still
the labyrinth door swings two ways,
every peril paired with its opposite
until.