A NIGHT IN THE PURPLE TULIP PALACE (ADAGIO)
In this seraglio night always consists of moonlight, jade steps and a curtain of pearls
all imaginary a bunch of flowers against blue wallpaper
imagine caving in under the concubine’s clothes a mound of snow
snow waiting impatiently to be possessed its crystalline body slowly
turning constantly curling in on itself in a slow dance
a bunch of tulips divesting itself of the love of self as it brightly declines
a kind of purple whisper which must be spoken breathily
addressing only him as he crushes the petals heavily
a drop of purple milk like a concubine impatiently waiting to be sucked
concentrating the entire world into one burning duct
In this seraglio fire always has the rude playfulness of tongues
a pointed tip licks the emptiness of skin midnight’s cling
green like leaves gathered at the concubine’s ankles
his preference for her a shower coming from every angle
watering the flower the little purple bowl of her nipple fills