22.07.25
Now you are dead
you rendition for madrigals because
the enemies have won
they swore your name
inviserates to the quietest quiet
scattered voice inside the staircase
descended further out again
the dismounts shuddering
O that's a nice blossom
instead a brow of worksong
firmament moon metal
gets silvered reversed
& out of my own mouth
robbed I want to watch
the whitest frothiest
blossomest blossom
but beg for another life
to this one so violently bent
not even my wrathless tongue
can keynote bitten toxins
seeping secret grapnels instead
