Mutable measuring tape,

Twisting snake,

Five,

Seven,

Three eighths.

Agate band cameo delving.

Effacing faces: gem.

Hidden in jewel's keep: likenesses.

My name once posed questions.

Regal symbols thrown up, vacillations. 

Could you be content letting the limelight fall elsewhere?

Sitting quietly in the dark while cinematic visions do appear?

If I could believe you, I would,

But

Mine is a honeyed, disconsolate cough.

Bent on wheedling further drops of golden kindness,

It barks out demands.

Cough.

Cacophony.

Caw, Caw, Caw.

Cops!

Pssst!

Pissed. Tipsy.

Tennessee.

See.

Assisi. Sissy.

See?

Scene.

He's just another kid, with a spiky name and jagged shoulders,

but his eyes worry the screen, like bugs battering a lamp.

He's drawn to the current, but the current wears him down.

Maybe he'll wash up on an island someday, edges tumbled coke-bottle smooth.

Myrrh,

your voice

resinates.

Twines around me

in the warm darkness.

Whisps of you cling to me,

"like smoke, or cat hair" you say,

but I would never brush you off.

I treasure the perfume of your lips,

It burns as incense in my memory.