Sweet greed.

The frame shivers

With a body bundled:

I tie, align, negotiate

That breath should hold my eye

As cameras snap

The glass of yearning.

I want only

To eat my art, let surge 

These honeyed tongues at once

By the moonlit march of Love, 

And see them glitter, 

Content in voiceless restoration.

And yet we crumble

For the warm night lied - 

Our flank's alive, 

The lead turned red;

Hear you not

The scream for bread?

Fleeing fast, alone

To bed, 

Unforgiving of that eye.