Tickled Sync

While in bells I lie,

who lies, if my belle—

my female I—

the one I Hallmark,

with my feelings; we-one

I tremble with consort—

who lies, if  by alt-

ernating tongues we

two-speak false rap-

port, peal apart?

Who lies—if  I she-and-I

deliver our ultima-

tum: my surly quiver,

her curt surprise—

if my two-timing slips?

If  Time itself

stutters the part—

if it inserts (and she

hearts!) a skipping second

one into my her-verge,

her to-my-from—

pushes in an extra

friend, an other, phan-

tom pendulum?