Till death do us not part
Say what you want, my cherubic darling:
that our love chases light out of temples,
cuts through the prophet’s dreams
and sways the heavens to the wildest temper of gods–
I possess no courage to believe
anything other than that some noon,
hot in color and dazy to the taste,
they will see us together
in one tomb, lying in silk,
cadavered to gardenias and rubied
like when we first kissed.
Zana Ali is a priestess of olive trees and an admirer of Saint Raphael. Her first work has appeared in Twisted Moon, and she can be found sculpting her passion for writing out of mythology and neurotheology at glycophemy.tumblr.com.