Sweat laced,

her skin spins (over) itself like webs, or covers, oceans of satin and dew, streaks a cross
___________(over)
miles of windowpane
reflecting surface like suffrage
...with a molotov and parade

slowly. Dyed purple dyed white dyed red blue green and orange
dyed blood black to the Saturday we'd left for this lovely little
repartee
on fascination street. Let's
cut the conversation

Lights out. On divisions of grandeur
and isotopes and liberte along with
love, and hearts and veins and arrows
and the one thousand smoldering stacks of molten corpses (Disfigured with lipstick smeared like a chalk outline round their colored collars)
this brings, with the

roses
it left
at my doorstep.

Bump

I sincerely do not know what this poem is about. It begins first with one voice and one theme and keeps getting more convoluted. There are many good lines, but they don't come together to form a coherent piece. The mood, which for most of the poem is the linking factor (and you achieve that nicely) is broken for a line in the second verse. You'd be better off to not try so hard stylistically with the odd line breaks and parenthases, and work harder on your theme. The imagery is excellent, just tie it all together.

P.S. no one looks very kindly on bumping a thread.