insect wine

longing for your gothic  kisses

your
gloomy wings
flew by my gothic window

i saw a
motorized karma
hunting the twilight
seeking mandragora

was it you?

i know
unheard
journeys reach
into the mouth
of the dragon city …

i know minuscule
insects sip my spilt wine … but


i think of you in the mirror
releasing strange energies
even when i’m not here but just in the poem
sitting by the window with no frames, no latch …

just pages
of existence and
possibilities of love …

but
it’s
been
two weeks and no demon
has appeared through that
door …

and
it’s a long journey across this room
perhaps
they didn’t make it through customs

perhaps
we’ll be left alone
and our kisses will be flawless

and
once again,
fashionable.