Within the lock the key creates a flashpoint
And the lambent pressure of her absence
Rolls back in waves from the open door
And mounts walls in cylinders of silence
Where once we sheltered in the woven shadows
Drifting down from her invisible wings
And the electricity of orgasm
Glittered random and wild across her skin
I talk to her when I’m in the shower
At least, to the frequencies that linger
And after, standing before the mirror
Watching as my hunkered shadow glowers
Deep beneath the sheen of beaded silver
Draw her ciphered outline with a finger
