This Palace Poem by Luke J. Holt

this palace made of bluish blades
that make you giggle blood
destroy the craft
deploy the raft
to spare us from this flood
this window makes a screaming hole
that calls me to its flame
made crystalline in kerosene and locked inside her name

this palace is a bed of salt
our feet are pulped and dry
but pain is pleasure
like a feather far too thick to fly

this palace is an obelisk in which i'm shortly tall
like flies that rush to greet the light
confuse themselves
and fall
but still with twines from rows i've sown
inside this shining ball
i'll make this palace as you were
much fairer than them all