I have tasted the lips of your desire
and found them wanting,
paused on the breath of a word.
I know what emptiness lies within,
like a broad shimmering sea.
Your tears echo your eyes,
and in the moonlight I see you
as you lie beneath the sheets.
I am your statue, molded with indecision,
waiting for your lips to move and speak
the word that lies upon them. . .
the word that is cast . . . on your lips.