and he searches
for the hollow
between her legs,
the twin of the atriums
between her breasts
full with blood and scars,
and he invades
with an ace
as black and sharp
as the diamond of spades,
the unearthed magic
forever running
from its only home . . .
And she closes her eyes as she waits for the next time
to be near
when she will be taken,
like a skeletal heart
and transplanted
into the corpse
of pure love;
haunted by dreams
as she lies, face down,
on the plateau of sanctity.