BR9 (aka pararosaniline)

A long embrace
traces number
where circles coil round
identical points, held
to the mathematics of conjunction
and a gravity of need.

To the enamoured,
the unscrolling
wind whispers
in raffia-parched vespers,
a glossolalia of reverence
and supplication
to unremembered gods.

This calque
for love exchanges
root for root
the hidden language
concealed in hearts gloaming
filled with longing.

Magenta flames
the horizon,
an effulgent blaze
the mirror
of two entwined
at marrow’s core.

Night’s pitch
at equinoctial
cleaves light
as a balance
the loved and lover.