SUBLIME ACID TEST

The clock stops
at all the wrong moments,
speeding up the process
of excess,
lingering on licking fears.

So we'll go Bukowski together
I suppose
in our finely shapen roles.
I will hold your hand
so that you can hold it
to the flame,
and comfortably uncomfortable,
we'll go dancing
round the burning bend
and we will be asking the wrong questions
at the right moments.
We will hum into our sleeves
and sing with falling leaves
burn graven images
into our brains
and pray never to look back again.

I know you precisely
from hem to hair
and I am still charging like a black mare.

"I'm sensing there's a test I haven't passed,"
she said,
"Just give me a little more time."
and they answered her only
with the sublime.