You speak in stereo, dual-layered with two mouths
The sheepish one turns to me
The fanged one sings out of your ear
Shaping form to those thoughts you lock secreted
In sinful gloom, spiders’ cobwebs spinning
Tracking the gossamer winkings in the light
My mind dimly feels their whispered and hissed jealousies pricking
Gleefully with angry blade honed and drawn in
Darkness, nursing towards maturity
Cradled by the grotesque bosom of your True Self
My eyes avert,
My soul gives you its back;
It says, “You are no friend of mine.”
RED GLADIOLA 