Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages
What he builds
(she says,
her eyes arias
of investitute)
is mind eternal
(atemporal, she says,
her name dissyllabic
and penumbral, sleek
as her black satin) .
He scans synapses
stellar storehouses
of memories, axioms,
inferences, instances,
ideas, thought processes,
even dreams, intuitions,
replicating everything
(her restless thighs
resisting arrest
in the dawn's early light) .
His wings are an aftermath
(she says, her fingers
symphonies of sibilance,
semblance, synthesis,
her lips swift clicks) ,
for what already soars
hardly needs propelling
except for decoration,
deceleration, Debussy.
Too near, too near
(she breathes heavily,
without abrasiveness,
in arcs of color,
abs of incandescence)
Infinity - to be.
He says (she says)
I AM (I am she)
pour vin (pour moi) .
Destinies (diatribes)
withheld (with helm)
from his hammer and nails
(she says, secretly,
sensuously, slenderly)
his screws, what secretes
in after-images of glow
(she repeats, repeats
her body scanning his
nuclear mass a capella)
his Cybernetic Cymbeline,
alas, his Innocents,
Posthumus (Imogene,
she says, self-consciously) ,
his bodiless Incorruptible
(don't cry for me Arr -
agon)
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