Must See

I don't want to stop
at your skin.
I won't turn back
at your dazzle of erotic fire.
I must pass through
your locks and doors,
a villain of the stars
scattered in your thimbleful
of brownest loam.
I must see You,
not the color of your herd
or the tribe of your ancestors.
I must taste the smoke
of your true voice,
not the missing tooth
in your harp of chromosomes.
I must see white mountains
melt and tumble down your spine
from the crown of death's wisdom
to the broken pomegranate
in your birth valley.
Smell the musk of your tears.
Hearken drum throbs,
flutes in your panther walk,
the way you shoulder blackness
and growl down barefoot paths of night.
I insist on beholding your pure
scarlet form of undulation,
just this breath
before it enters your body.
Why is there no serpent
among the constellations?
Because You are.
The ram, lion, scorpion, bear,
Use them to ford the stream of desire.
They are mossy stones
in the moonlight of an illusion
that we could ever be two.
When our timing is perfect,
which only happens now,
we devour each other.
Loss becomes a Way.
I must hear the lethal
silence of your owl wing
preying on my fur.
Until you have no shape
but the sacred crystal of my imagination.