the secret of summer's 23rd

this is for rodine cagampan


we descend unt this chamber
away from the sun
as we did on summer's 23rd
arms locked, gasping for breath

we accuse ourselves
of shaping our own pain
trying to chisel away the marks
left by our lips
the sun could not burn away
the stencils of the skin

and as the glamour spell reaches
its peak and whizzes out
the door, left ajar by the oglers
shall we seek redemption once more?

to engage once again in this hopeless dance
and renew the marks left by our lips
descending away from the sun
and again shape our own pain
as we did on summer's 23rd
arms locked, gasping for breath