This has not happened yet
(my mirror, my sister, my lying pet)

there is a shining thing on a velvet pillow
and the window lets in the sounds of the street below

there's a hole in my heart where the love comes in
and a sparkle of light from your steel-wrought ring

run my fingers slick with mythos and then I will begin
the pinprick kiss, the pinwheel and the sweat caul of your skin,
the story-lash, the centrifuge, this hate we could call love,
blindfold, pinwheel, pendulum, your hands pulled tight above.

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