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.