A Hymn

transfixed by the moon
in the finished glare
come.            stare.

do you know what it is?
pain engulfed in love

free. incorrigible. beyond repair.

My solitude in the gloom
where your single flower bloomed
the inane incantations
always worked to incapacitate

my moth,
that never did recuperate

             how did he swallow himself?

he poured the tea
while uncurling her hair

with verity on the verge
but never gone
the idolatry pretense
got carried on

and she kept choking
in his fresh blood
scoffing,
the moth
kept the light stuck

brightness is a scanty measure
for the dark
like when a sanguine offers
a sardonic heart

both sit to satiate the salvage
the burning light
that sought solace
and the carnal moth,
a caustic case.

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