I. THE REALIZATION
She got lost in heaven somehow.
Her heart stayed 8 years old,
went wild when he approached,
black Italian lust in his eyes.
He saw the child he loved,
downy skin and scraped knees.
Though at 17 her breasts were becoming apparent,
it was her innocence he took to bed.
He has married someone else,
dark-haired with enormous hips and teeth.
Is it because I have never borne him a child,
or because I am now old enough to do so?
The salty scent of his body hovers
in my bedsheets like anointing perfumed oil
& his absence aches like
III. OBSESSION, TOO LATE
Seven years with Gemma,
yet it is Beatrice I want to devour.
When she died I crawled inside her tomb
to close soft eyelids,
fingers rough against her gentle paleness.
I want to follow her to Heaven.
I want her naked, childish,
her titian hair haloed.
I want my heart on a plate,
ready for her to eat.