he, the aether ~ {iii}

{iii}
i wear the perfumed nights;  
blood orange  
{&} evergreen  
in the shadow ov my breasts,  
molecules ov memoria  
as bitter as they're sweet ~  
... i write in the scents  
ov your native soil,  
accented curs{iv}e notes  
caught on  
the curve ov your tongue ...  
you swallow my musing whole,  
not savouring the discord  
caused there
where the wind ate my words
*  
my tongue lies  
dead in your mouth, a sacrifice  
to your wanton destruction,  
the caviar'd curses
carved on my palate
my throat  
between my thighs ...  
... i am an ode  
to slaughterhouse love songs,  
peeled from myself
{&} devour'd in moments  
when you are ravening  
//  
 
{ii}  
we bathed in nightjar tears, flayed
hostia thin petals from our throats  
& cast our eyes 30° across the lines that ley beneath our feet.  
i fed you broken glass in uneven shards, knotted
fly-away curls in the indecent length ov your own  
& buried my heart in an apple core.  
 
{i}  
i tasted the drum beat,  
heard it in my soles  
as they press'd naked  
to the womb into which you  
ploughed baptised hands.  
the frayed cords licked my cheek  
{3x3x7}  
tethered to bone & feather,  
dust kissed by your fervor.