So

It’s my first attempt at a Sestina, it feels like writing prison diaries. The bars are so cold and metallic.. whatever made people write like this?

So I can cast quotidian in secret
I spent a leap year carving your shadow
out of titanic blocks of Reykjavik ice.
At first I didn’t notice that you echo
my glance, when crystal shards sparkle and dance
you spin and catch me with my hands all red.

We wait till sunset to look for one red
barn in a haystack of trouble. Two secret
codes and that evil god will die a dance
defying death – I dissolve where the shadow
falls. Instantly, without a word, you echo
my every movement, twice breaking the ice.

You could have done better than a bent ice
pick, love, to crack a certain salient red
planet with. Sexy, rhythmic, your thrusts echo
my song, I’ll whistle. Just keep it a secret.
Wait till it’s dark in here, when the shadow
falls they will never tell Rumba from square dance.

Every corrosion in me wants to dance
for hope, preemptive attack is served ice
cold. Did you notice how the wolf’s shadow
falls? Soon adulterated hungry red
lobsters will fry unfed, burning in secret
as long, as far, as my tap will echo.

All ecclesiastical actions echo
my temerity. In quixotic dance
I’m happy to reveal Victoria’s secret:
in each lace cup we chill two scoops of ice
cream. Slice a fractured corpuscle-rich red
eye, deep in sleep I Tango with your shadow.

Heavens! I can’t divine why my shadow
falls like a blue bowling ball. Will you echo
my sin and end up in my hell? These red
hot boots are full of promise, private dance,
we dance this once. Tell me what’s in your ice
box now? I swear that I can keep a secret.

Their fingers stained red, Secret Service men:
Shadows of ice breathe Alpha Bravo Charlie
stop. Delta Echo Foxtrot shall we dance?