in this last blue flash of dusk the violins
of our eyes are playing to the south west wind’s
counter tenor and the river Seine’s low chant

my heart beats a tympany of desire, our music
solves the indigo mystery of twilight and shatters
the drifting cobwebs of the moon spider

the scent I wear is singing its own tune
of violet, neroli, musk-rose, carnation, bergamot
look, I leave a diacritic of kisses on your skin

my hand’s a bracelet on your wrist, my blood
makes pilgrimage through vein and artery, but you
seem far away now, listening to a song I can’t hear