WEBVTT

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In the interstices.

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Pleasure me not for
love, pleasure drained

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me deep as an artesian well.

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The pitiless blood letter veined
me, long grew the parasite

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before its fill.

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Lover, smile the other
way, nor ply me

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with evil, who am surfeited
and taste the shadows of gray.

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Nor sway me with promises
to rouse my thirst,

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and fill me with that
passion beyond lust.

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Nor romp my body in the
wake of the mind's play.

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How tired, how enervated,
how becalmed I am.

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That island toward which
I strove in my salt tides

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has drifted out beyond
the listless swell

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and formed a hostile continent.

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I am amorphous with all
deflowered brides, who

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with their floodgates sundered,
drowned when they were stormed.

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