Vespers

I anoint you
with almond-oil kisses,
and asperse you
with tears pressed out of the sesame grains.
You are the sacrificial animal:
the altar is my body
and the high priest
shadows your shape
with a blade sharpened
in blood’s forge.
A round us
forests of incense
ascending.
And redness, redness … redness
between the wings of the west
where the sun declines
worn out
with satiety.