mirror hands

dancing with angelicandor
in the jam of your door
the ledge where your mercy was pledged

dancing with sweet cherubandon
at rim of your canyon
caldera where scarabs were hewn

these were the gold bezeled beetles
whose flight above babylon
offered us quintescent views

those whose wing filament flicks
gaves us glimmers of hope
we could hopelessly choose

to chase mirage pyrimads looming
the painflower blooming
our petal welt skin

still I stand mirror hands 
clutching rose heart in the
casket we’re already in