Vallencourt
It was hitomebore —
florette splintering my heart
until it pulverized
victorious eyes
burning into mine, poppyseeds
bursting into coquelicot corolla
Je ne change point
I fell through the somnolent
stone dais with cinnabar charms,
faithful but blind,
my fears mounting but muted
victims of mise en abyme
as I transition to hedone’s unknown
Je ne change point
Rebels hang off
haught Victorian lips,
their ineffable limerence shimmers
in Andromeda's chocolate cosmos,
promising one day they’ll be found
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