Estuary

XX

And with each disdain—with every sample of your
    indifference—a shredded desire howls
I do not keep them any longer
I am the one who hoisted the sail

Or am I the one who tried to guide his steps with yours
    circling vertigo's obscure house?
And a harsh unease confines itself to my chest beneath
    a glass the entire wind proclaims
A liquor intoxicates your face while you place
    a hand on the svelte waist of the youthful sea
    grape
And successive nymphets—in winged topsails—weigh anchors
Other desires will come panting, agitating their
    walled-in hives—with humming blindness
    smashing into the panels of darkened
    little cells—
Fever condemned—fever of interior doors
    that takes up the color of wine in the winged temples—
    to foreheads anointed with the briny balm
And the enigma peeks through with caution
    —it becomes clear—after the rain arches beneath the eaves