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''sonnet4''
whereby the light in my loins burn
existence dims and shadows turn
whispers scream, your cloak surrounds
my flesh to your touch now is bound
the cut of night is slit apart
as glint of blade becomes your heart
silence drowns the quivering air
as red is now seen everywhere
the mask you place on beauty's form
contrasts the mood in its transform
breath drips hunger from the walls
whilst freezing chains impale her call
if not for you what is the worth
when opaque howls collapse the earth?
`T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova
25jul04
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