to the world and back.
all letters caged.
syllables inferno, three stars as anagram;
Zeus by name and number,
creation came three mouths of prophecy;
the sleeping man, lime-green, as dumb as smoke,
leaves trail of waste to the white flamenco flesh;
her naked smell; damnation scent as surplus to the core;
she came through roots of man,
the chosen one. neither epitaph nor blunder,
a queen of light to right castrated man;
strangled by the flowers of consensual disease;
through the wards of hidden ceilings,
the climbing nettles rant and rage,
nurse-maid to scars far deeper than her own.
her grieving lines once laughter through the pillars of her heart,
now dead as dormouse feeding on a drip;
comes knowledge to the flailing wind,
the arts as crafted cyclone of retreat.
how many more the sleeping god ignores?
how many more now wish-bone for the fingers of the mute?
heirlooms come with branding irons on the gifted gab of love;
the slouch of man
two-tone as music singing bright deceased;
a heart released,
snows treasures from the eyes.
a once startled love as woman came to give,
passion lives; only women die;