The Fourth Deadly Sin
Three days entr’acte, and the savage garden
wakens in me a restive thirst for prey;
but I can stave off thirst a little while.
Three nights intermezzo, and the hunger
stirs in me a vagrant restlessness;
but I can stave off hunger for a while.
For now, this transcendental heart of ash
envisages repose, a sweet nocturne,
engendered in my lover’s soft embrace.
Submerged here, half awake, and half in dream,
our separate worlds entwine in one another
with a measured quietude and ease.
And, lacking words to speak, our lips will touch;
and stave off parting for a little while.