Kiss Oblik
I
Love, like cancer
leaves nothing untouched
if you embrace its ebon splendour
and drift amongst subdued and fearful shades.II
In order to know
the way of the walking dead
a sickness must fill you
slowly at first,
gnawing and bringing glimpsesof a past life
spent chained to a rock
liver picked at by carrion
punishment, as a maker of men
and a thief of fire.III
Shattered by the realisation that nothing is out there
you re-enact great crucifixion scenes of the past
walking the streets stitched together with rough string
and packed with clay and bitter-smelling resin
dreaming, aware of the silence that has spelt
the downfall of great cities.IV
Then, in mighty sodium halo
she is there, the daughter of Paris.V
Taste her lips
breathe your own Nicene Creed
weep, embrace and
love, like cancer
beneath a rain of milk and blood.
