want not

write me the ailment and elixir
weave it between premonition and nostalgia
 
waste not another write
on the romance of seasons change
sterilized instantly by cold rain
forgot in the stare of a television
stopping short the fools leap
hypnotized by simple pattern
 
write no more flight plans
for the gilded paper aeroplanes
blown off course by her true direction
 
     she floats high in her smile  
     that cups a thousand genies  
     focused together behind polished aquamarine
 
     her eyes intent on love
     but not for you
 
waste no more words on weddings and funerals
 
write me instead
the grit of stiff drink
word me a dance
that warps regret into rhythm

toast me alone
in this hall of a million ghosts
only one of which will touch flesh
excite for me its echo
 
write me saturated
in the unashamed sweat
of amoral ladies
word me the sweet salt
of god incarnate
hidden  
in plain sight
 
trash-pick me the letters  
that will distill insomnia
that is the ailment and elixir