Ecstasies dwindle

mechanically,

Risqué in their disappearance.

I tried to hold them back

but my fingers crushed and

crumbled

Left me insensible—

polarized

and thoughtful.

Blanched in joy,

parakeets purple—

and summer cleaves to the edges

so long steeped with dark.

The murmurs reach a crescendo

of dominant moods,

apparent in echoes.

I strive to secure you now,

in beauty and truth

and the jeweled lacquer of my eyes—

Let us dream in oxymorons.