blonde in san diego

by Derek W Schwenk

In the last resurrection of a revenant dusk, 
atop the cities, brick reliquaries
Rose like concrete heirlooms 
and she lie
ascending sainthood 
through my hagiography 
Amongst the golden hour posing for sky
Finest threads of copper filament 
Conducted around her eyes 
and I trembled at such electricity, 
searching for ground, 
stealing glances of set emeralds. 
I felt the prod of a phantom pain 
where man contends within coils,
The reconciliation of a primordial descending. 
Shame bloomed across my aching, 
blushed by the brume of an itinerant memory 
blown away like so much of the gossamer of man.
I traced every line of ink 
and wished I could bare my teeth 
to their margins.
I dined with my fantasies, 
awash in the naivete of their coda.
That I should worship 
the envy of her visage.
And put an end to my heist 
more impoverished than before.