wanting –

sister disco sings a song

it isn't long

it's pronged for defeat and foreclosure; what

can You make of it, now that

your hair is Wet, whisked

up into a Lather

unending? -- You, then, the

stealthy Ray

who stings the Heart must give birth

to a Pronounced Oration

for those Who would Follow You, the

acolyte Now served

as Impostor or Saint -- What

difference is

there, in this arid sky, between

dust or bracken, nails, or

flesh? What would you Allow past you

and into the Goal

without a Second's hesitation to

take your Dive in Sacrificial

realms? -- Sorrow

accumulates

on the doorstep -- it announces itself

quietly but

with Pressure -- You can wrap its

satin hooks

around you and Cry

for Once at her passing -- She

the onerous

falcon unused to fly you will

teach tricks

to the late of birth

and reverent of ungodly love --