The Light of His Face

The light of his face is greater than my eyes
can bear; the lightning in his hair so crackling bright
I cannot move in the prison of his sight.
Though his spear is at my throat, I can’t disguise
the emptiness that wallows in my heart.
At his touch, my chest swings open like a door–
my heart in his hand, a stone that beats no more,
a lifeless jewel, an insult to his art.
He moves to crush it, then cradles it in his hand,
breathes into it light-sparked breath; it starts to beat
a dancing rhythm. He returns it to its seat.
Enclosed, it flutters, but answers his command.

Alive, the cage of ivory holds it fast,
But dancing in me it sets me free at last.

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