'screen kiss #6 (1948)'

frail light of interval.
strewn shoes mark the pathway,

so many self-conscious Cinderellas
above the running music.

she left behind in broken day
the pearl grey heel

of a glassy eye, as though sick
of the day itself,

of the breath of an unspilt sky,
wound in an indecision

of ballgowns, cinematic images
of loaded midnight, gun-

fire grey around
his crowded head.

This night, full fallen fire,
in black and curling radiant, I

the body’s under line, fluid wing
of force, opposed to it-

self, in spaceless caves, to where
desire for speechless

space, upright and fallen, climbs
an inner river of no-air

to dart and dwell
in cheekbones’ eave

like swallow, tips of breathwing
dipping throat.