Infidelity

engulfed in her, seaweed hair

buffed secular friction between her unibrow.

Etched with intoxicating finesse.

Camel molars winced crooked in her mouth as she relaxed her tongue,

strange words slurred off them onto his pride, then his conscience.

A delicate silhouette, easy on the eyes, frosted over a carcass of worms.

Breaking the threads of her moth-eaten dress,

beneath her bloody nose and copper scented pantyhose.

Cloudy Sundays hovered over the beams of sunshine.

A ghostly chokehold of purgatory gripped him as he entered the stained glass doors.

Her Le Monde Sur Mesure bellowing the pews,

even after long scrubbed away;

desperate hope, held tight by a brick of soap.

Violating our sacred oath, i panned it all to the debris in my memory,

whittling down the dark catacombs of my deepest regrets,

i brushed a finger against his.

And our eyes met.