her dressing

roses from the maw, that night,
liquid as the candlewax my eye
lashes had settled in.

she came, my blue angel,
once again as once she had,
yet wouldn't let me hold her.

why this chase? i asked. i know you from before.
seen your face before, seen you when you were
in your blue dress. you were always in that dress,
and i've known you, always, from before before.

she said this wasn't her blue dress,
and i agreed i wasn't totally blind from flame.
blame effects on time, i reasoned, plus how much i ...
came.

she began pirouetting away at this,
to my heartened discontent.
i turned back to the candle pot,
eyes twicthing in suspense.

but just before i went and stuck
my eye back in fire again,
she re-appeared in her regalia
not crimson, or cobalt, but blue.

my candle was blown off, then.
this is my blue dress, she curtsied,
letting me suffocate myself in it.
creature that i am, animal i am.

as usual, the differential equations
became harder at this point -
the more i indulged in, the more reticent
she turned out. more i shared myself.

.

when i asked what was the hassle,
she said i'd put her blue dress on a pedestal.
at once i knew my error, and how elastic
could really bend.

so i whooshed her without permission,
from that place i'd bled for years,
place i'd tomato sauced to death
'n bolognaised with my own flesh.

whooshed to her closet, and shut the door tight.
we are not allowed lights now, i told her.
then held her, and steadying carefully,
asked her to choose in this terrifying darkness --

and I promise my love, any dress you wear, i would know.