Macula

Undone
I scramble
about my bed
as my sheets
ensnare me.

My pulse
quickens,
as I realize,
the horror
of my sin.

Dear God,
What have
I done?
What have
I done?

How is it
that you
lived here?

How is it
that you
love so?

How, how
is your
perseverence?

I love my soul most when
it is wet with grief,
and the tender thought of
death is wrapped about my mind.

Like the

Haiku

Beneath the cold snow,
a warm man lies unconscious,
his fingers twitching.

Variations

I
Love
You and
your secret places
tantalize (;me)

and

I
Love
You(r) skin,
which is
an ocean
whose tingling waves
wash over me like
(hysop)

and

I
Love
You(r) hair
the strands
ethereal tenderness
that fall upon my face like
(lightly plumage)

and

I
Love
You(r)
lips
bold walls of tirzah
shoulders
ivory towers of the city.

but most of all

I
.
Love (when your "fingers hands voice mind and heart")
. (make "sound and words" and I can feel the very fabric of)
You - r (;soul).