Opening

What combination
unseals this safe?
Go on demanding,
spinning dizzy
the dial forever.

It is flesh, after all.

Furrow into the depths, to the core
of your red and flowering center--
what bloody mess quivers there?
An open heart is required.

My polestar,
leading constellations,
is an uncertain and mercurial compass,
a dim and dull magnetic field.

There is no longer that pull--
only this hunger
for thick honey
turning black, congested,
but sweet, like marrow,
hardening smooth as melted glass.

There is only a narrow way through.