Sweet Lemon --

destitute here on the crags of the shore our humbled Selves

reconnoitering with grace and lemons the Truth

an icon glistening in the Wind; What

have we to do

with our differences, our heavings

of dry Flesh

uncovered by some Diety these

our Inchoate longings

burned on Sight

these Urges our delineation of

salt and Sky what would

You wear

to the Ball this year, would you Uncover

the dry desert

as some arid Oasis this the pining for

a lost Sister

standing Firm and resolute?