Electric Version

Her bee-stung bellicose mouth
offers no kisses,
no pianissimo promises for this shadow amour,
at least not yet;
her grief is not friable like those high-rise
charnel houses.
Her manganese gaze challenges, lends
her bucking red splays meaning and grace
with their absence,
her future embraces and salubrious fucks
laved by time and circumstance.
With a raveled heart, I offer condolences
to my sister-in-law.