The Moonstone

Your white-heat flares,
hotter than the cherry steel,
blonde Goth,
liquid diamond,
crystal spike punched
through a vampire’s heart.

And your nuclear blue
darts like un-named fishes
beneath such glassy skin,
tattooing the viewer,
as the heavenly smile sears
our worldly lips.

Who prised you from that first setting,
centerpiece of a lost talisman,
or ancient amulet worn
to restore virginity?
Whose favored touch
will set you home again?