Anticipation of Thirst

Hands melt and eyes have bled,
A curious Spring dew.

Your absence seizures;
The ceaseless cerebral
Contours of your hat,
Like paraffin wax.

And an ovulation cycle
Without count or measure;

I’ve given to you
The Sun and the Moon,
Which were ailing.

Thread into the coaxial
Rhythmic appendectomy;
And spend the fires
Of your heart’s desires

Upon a shameless
And a ceaseless flow
Of beauteous parallels of love.

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