Trapped in this tesseract heart.
Divination angles in pre-language.
Hand to heart, heart to mouth,
mouth to mound I act out ancient symbols
in the ritual heat of the night.

All senses converge on the holy hour,
a space-time collapse at the taste
on the tongue as clairvoyance
hits like a kiss on the neck.
Neurons fire in future tense.

Sense the prophecy in skin.
Four dimensions unfurl into one.
In her presaging sweat, as red lips
call for sacrament in half-light,
I see the line to glory.