recourse

Oh, supplication
you saturate my fifth with your sumptuous third
sitting high like a volta
i hold on for age;
that soft light
stroking my skin
i can feel it washing over me
we sit in warm silence
a spectacle of tension
when you run my hands through your hair
those soft chords echo
and the echo bounces back
into the dark wool
oh just
to
touch
to savour and take
oh, supplication
fill the chord
be the third
feel the inner middle east satisfied
to the sated outer west
course it in you
oh, supplication
unto the distant dusk
take my suspended seventh
hold it over me
make me a martyr
a diminished sixth
a sultry fermata
said alma mater
suspend me
save the fifth
and bring forth your third
until the last second
hold your tongue;
take your tonic;
release.