Him and Trance

In those tunes, I see Him.

An unusual style though,

a slow abandoned dance.

Two doses or a thousand,

of mysterious, nameless trance.

 

In a mere glimpse,

I devour a droplet of ecstasy

that He is drowned in.

The same, flowing from

the corner of His eyes.

 

The kind of tune that makes

eyes, bereft of light and

throat, bereft of voice,

cry and squeal inside

to its impassioned delight.