A comet power-lifting from your nape
as filamented fingers play the grain
of running desert, ruined wall, scrolled
and retrograde as Venus. Softly ethered
solemnity of hush, a camel's calm
bathing again, in a lucid star, wed
to a stoppered gloss. Heliocentric,
the way light grows along a line
(burn of the shoulders, bearing down)
and tipped to butterfly elves
(the rasp and rattle of her mind)
as we choke on sopranos, sucking
miasma out of a night lawn. Splice
this tablet, that fleece-armed
memory of who's seraphic aperture's
daguerreotyping novices midheaven-
prana, chi, a subjective function
wharfed and whittled into glass, our
transcendental eulogiaic station
depicting layers of her auburn crown.