For Princess-Akiyara, My Muse

Her chiffon whispered my name with each turn
Of her patterned, dark rose stockings
and kneeling, I look upward to the lace lightning
that twines my fingers and my hands cease to be
I must not look up beyond my phantom hands
for she thunders, goddess-eyed, into my youthening
There is no bearing this, there is no easy escape
There is only the laced waves closing over my head
The chiffon rising, rising, rising, rising
And I, for the last time, rise too