Maiden, claw at your lids and see the vicinity of the sun they snuffed from the platinum torch you lend from his wraith
A guise churned out from your burnt palms, pious entrails
Your virtue bestraddle him on that opaque horse, those muted hoofs
As your knees muffle their infirmity to stay bent low at the fore of that Man's pardoning_ his clement purging
As you wedge your selfishness in the bone that winces your neck down to the stepless, cumbrous foot
As you clasp the ripples of the eschewed faith to tire away, yield to the raised elbows and sapping chin you mount your supplication upon
'There is no appeal to my creed
or a leaf of amber stone and a bead the color of canines to soothe the grinding of my sins to your all-hearing heed..._
But don't you dare take what is mine_
Don't you dare beguile his stars where death bores its lambs to life
Don't you echo your chiding in his sleep;
guide his romping to the gruesome mass of silent gravel
where nothing is but an alleged warble for palliation.
My credence is but a twisted ankle warped by the babel of sentience; the awareness of growing into breath under your expectancy
This is no virgin confession laundered with humility and precaution as I root for your will to pour vinegar down my loins,
deposit your wrath into my furthest soils so I could be barren_ No
This is no grivance for the girl I came to be but a prayer I'm hewing-off the ashes of the religion I came to imbed sighted,_willing.
Let him in the seats of your dales mointed with the frothy prodigality flaying away with the gaunt dimple of his cheek
Let him make strides to sink his fetters; hexed, sucking at his soul in those nephrite, fleshed glens.
Needless to stroke his lobes with the intoning crochet of a lyre
He doesn't need the welcoming or the rosaline cloth for that matter
My skin, though sordid_
Could be enough sleeve to counteract the weathers of the years, the spells of his crux still_
So hear this wordless penury in a beggar's prayer
and let his blood be in the reeds of his arteries'
18/9/2023