12/4/1996

This is a fever I'm writing
And the alphabet is of fire
        of the djinns
My lover born of fire
        fears fire
I, a fire-worshipper
douse him with my waters

My lover born of air
Goes to the air
It is phantoms on the air
        I battle
Or perhaps the djinn
        of my own heart

My lover born to goodness
goes to bed
A fever burns him in my bed
I feel flesh
It is the spirit burns the flesh

My love wants a genius
He wants an angel, a brass lamp
My lover lacks a bottle
        with a seaborne message
My lover, Jonah born, breathes
        like a fish
intermittently
between two elements
I born to one am one
I consume myself and him

My lover rouses me with rings
And demands a poem
We grow wings