You live by my breath.
After the silence, the strings, then an instantaneous loss
Of memory. The wind will drop. A pitch black
Velvet scarf will be ripped off the last lamp
In the final bedroom. And in the center of an empty ballroom,
Where we may well be, a starving ox blinks.
I’ve always wanted to live.
Beauty has ravaged me. Now
I must free others of my own condemnation.