105 The Fugue My fury of fugue is ready to become The organ of my temple -- your vibrating lung, Your raised impatient cocks to shake my loaded guns, My air to sound within the movements of your tongue, The ruthless bullets of your notes to wound my throat, Your keys to speak within the keyboard of my door, The lust of climax in the lasting last accord, Your tongue within my lips to say my only word. My fury becomes your fusion of the fugue, The pushes of your roots within my open wound, The singing consonance of all my silent moods -- The sacred music of my flesh becoming you.







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IRENE CĂSAR
Confined Verse
Collected Poems

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