the magnetic table of your
skin is where I lay my altar
a stole of martyr red and
resurrection white, you are
the carriage of my breath, the
host to my charming parasite;
my synonym, the contrary
under which I fall and rise;
with you, I like more than
I love, for in love there are
blind spots and bends of
reason; here my mind
is free of the ties of vow
and circumstance, the pull
and choke of civility that
makes mutes of us all; we
choose to inject light and
make sounds unadulterated,
discarding cleverly placed
inventions, I make myself
a thing of diaphanous glass,
a gentle piercer of the din
of prescribed ritual, waiting
for transportation to the
wistful exhale, the merciless
ease with which you seize
the crux of my fear; as we
ascend unsheathed, unarmed
and unmade, truer than child,
powerful as Caesar
Amanda Anastasi
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