Heather T

bound

I am drawn with your wicked imaginings

skin-sinned brimstone zephyr sketched

warm swept across deep waters

of curve and nape and cleft

burning down the temples

 

in garden\'s dark

and swollen night

 

striped with the laces of verdant uttering

this parchment reddens her moan

a slave to quilled religion

I am baptized in tongues

an exegetic doll

 

swallowing puddles

of your ink

 

grant me the saliva of your poem words

and I will thrash beneath them

freedom is anathema

pressed between your leather

sealed in wet-locked wonder

 

I refuse your ransom

and revel

in your chains