Poem 83: Fortress of Gold

someone strong death
in his pale fortress of gold
laid down by me today
and in between whispers
we spoke of you
of loving and belonging.

I cried, he laughed
laughter as a corkscrewing
of hyenas, convulsing the room
into a rutting of crude fires
low without light
but darkly red enough
to burn me, out of keeping
out of love, out of you.

until I laughed, and he cried
crying as a forever
of all the fallen angels
flooding the room
with their silent silver tears
for the easy capture
and first days dying
of another weak and faithless man.