Into The Breach

I saw the most exquisite
patemime of love,
violent strikes of future;
waxed in rooms.

will the rain ever stop,
peel the dust of broken
things and collect out,
over the sea?

I thought of the smell of
riches, of foreign tongues
I never grew to love, to
bring back in sand.

to hold the cup and the tip
to cusp, never letting you know,
I am the thoughts, the reactor and
priest-
I have sinned again, and again.