From [bried]

how well her wishes went . . .
The first power, night
the second, how those two lived
in a courtyard, brick-paved, like elves,
the third, her voice uneven,
laughing, wanting me.
Cool as my star-
crossed legs, we moved as one
person, he the 4th and I
like foxes, chasing them across
the roof, across
their sofa, then
turned out at last. No luck! She’d think
of me for days, telling her body,
her husband said, the precise sound
of my shallot heels,
of my thighs over them.

the marquis / the mark is
Trust in this place lasts
minutes, an aisle of light
flicked out, the center
of my wrists, let your hands
tamper with me, I’m not easily
broken, and when you bind
me, where do I go? Not over the mirror
you’ve made me say all the words
you want me to like prayers. Not where you entered
me, burning, as within I laughed,
flying out of my body. I return
fully never to you. Trust in the truth I carry—
what you give freely
bluer eyes refuse.

fisher
Slipped from his arms like a net
in cold water. Don’t grab
after me, dearest—he did
what I said. Again and again
he loved me. And empty
as the long beaches where he loved
to open up my clothes, in time
I knew flight
was not something
that I had to do.