the line.

 the line torn with your teeth
was your only vivid foible
because your skin was ceramic
crow's feet consummate with joy
sonorous utterances
that failed and proved the wanting heart—
to prevail!

but obliterated was that touched periphery
when pads of lightning reached for
sweet berry flesh
and fruit skin, rising hairs
diving in open entrances
locks falling from ajar doors

and from open throats
sticks of blue powdery resemblances
were procured
to draw that line again

circular and cyclical
the release almost sinusoidal
an allegory of incessant rhythms
of erasure and creation
throats tight then open

but constant is the balking
like an echo calling to a distant and quiet sea
searching for return
but the shore pulling up empty

times appear
when the lines are seared
on fragile form
with a red blazing spit
areas untouched by the fire
deterred but deliciously tantalizing

to thwart the heart
from speaking for the brain
intentions amiss
i miss
the clarity
of a former
crystalline sea