Wedding Jacket Flap

In night my breath turned often
as I burned
with Christ’s circumcision
twisting off gold
spun wheels
meeting Ungaretti’s precision
by a red tied bow solemn
and burnt

At dawn came parakeet whistles
poisoning dowries
swishing out wine belew
rose purple
of Lot’s boyhood
fallen beyond
Leucippus’s teaching (air)
of encaved
divisible atavistic pain