the wasp wears your mask,
your face –
beautiful danger he imitates,
obedient traveler across deliberate seas
nourished by a psychic moon –
darling, your messenger – sibylline,
has arrived:
He wants my trust,
He enters my eye,
He drinks my tear,
He carries me into your mind.
i see great walls,
and things forbidden,
i feel your presence.
i ask him to find your body,
he can only reveal your truth,
locked within his fatal touch.
the sting is your sting,
the pain is your pain
the agony of our love –
i will bury him
in the garden
with the others,
and wait, patiently
for another
for another,
for another.


About michael mcguirt

Finding myself in this version of me...........mm View all posts by michael mcguirt

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