Magdalene’s candle stands
Akin to the abalone bin
Currently brimmed with quarters.
Short change for the high season
When the sun sleeps early
And the string lights constellate
The sidewalk like fireworks.
Past Mary’s flick’ring wick,
Third-eye center in my shrine,
Dances a Tarot of the Lovers
To a cumbia of St. Selena
Stuck immortal on my wall,
Where late at night when all the world
Sleeps close, I dream of you alone.
And I cream my hand next to yours,
A soft-serve slide and cupped cone.
Between fingers felt we melt
Under Christmas blinks and
Tiffany-Box lyrics tinning the air.
I overcoat close to your parka,
Nosing frankincense on your skin.
You laugh at the red-nosed rein-dog,
Dancing frost sprites in the air.
We skate to reggae grooves, moving
Through us like smooth choc‘late.
In the flick’ring winterglow,
We picnic under blankets, afire,
Uncovered, two puppies, acuddled.
Then you walk away from me,
Candle-snuffed like cooled embers.
Winter has waned with wax;
No answer from Mary tonight.
But the Lovers still summer my wall,
To St. Selena, canto and lullaby,
Late at night, to dream of you.