white: whips like its many
      a name,
         divines in it still,
  my eyes pure engulfed in
      the silence;

       white: which sound
     spills the sud of women
      sitting by the river
     looming clean sheets purulent
       with the Earth's gruel;

   white:
   oh, by the
      window,
   heart's ****** tillage or
      a word unspoken sinking
  in postponement, a moth's
    glide in perpetual motion

    white, many days,
      fewer nights,
         earth sways to crystalline
a tear to light a face
      of beauty once
      tarnished black with
          the blood of roses.