Tears

Moments,
soaked and swollen,
dangle
on the swing of your iris—
spangles of sorrow.

Crystals entangled
in this chandelier:
elations of motion,
these elongations of devotion,
these fountains of feeling,

The healing closure of sealing,
within the lesion of real meaning,
coiled,
like the serpentine dancing to the flute
of emotion.

The skies pour pure,
clouds bursting in thirsty commotion.
Yet the only residue
is my heart
of the ocean.