Come as a sickness and plead to me,
Twirling loathsome broken bread.
My sympathetic eyes admit no kindness.
Charity interrupts a charitable introduction concerning high things.
Turned away and belonging,
Truthfully or not,
I am visited & pestered by demons,
When only the long song has just begun.
“Give to us your possessions that we might
sever you from our misgiven home.
We entreat you in the name of hunger
& desire, that we might feast on what is
not rightfully yours.”
Only foreign voices and putrid whiffs
Dizzy me in this, my first day,
But I refuse all divisions.
To dispel is to refuse on this day.
I cannot know what will be;
Only glimpses of what is.
Hardened steel.
Spouted marble.
Wisps astray.
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