Hung high and sweeping,the curtains are thick with concealment
Conceal is what they are hung for
Every fold rolls into darkness
Caravaggio, velvet close
That there is drama is withheld
The lovely terror of warm thighs in soft tension
Around every downcast Christ, around every looseheaded John
is darkness bound tenebrism. In our language a temple is a woman
Your dress darling,
light caress of your padding footfall,
wraps itself in holy mysteries confounding
Confound me --
curtains reveal curtains
folds roll into new folds
There is no harm in some secrets -- only catastrophe
From blue, from purple, from scarlet twisted fine, from sin concealed
rent but by jealous hands. What would be revealed?
Curling toes, will of night
Timorous flesh-thick femurs -- mighty bone
A window...
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