I watch your mouth

open, the bud of your tongue

rooted to your hips. There

is no ambiguity in the

ambition of my mouth

seeking salt. With the memory

of stigmata your palms

press into the thorny crown;

you are anxious to pull the blood

from me that will

darken the rose.

I will write my desire

with the stain of my life

on every piece of you.

Under the wide eyed sky I would

break the seals and drink

deep of the violence

of your heart. I will rise

to die again in you

.