Guitar slide of the patella Scores the harmony of a monk At the prie dieu. Kneeling As the sword anoints a lord. The I.R.A.’s
And when the girl asks her why that man set himself on fire, how is she to respond except as any mother hemorrhaged by
You are made in a darkness that warms and rustles, and settles, folded under the dusk-sound of cicadas singing as softly as a woman