petty and pathetic,
insofar as when a wreathed breath
    brings the being to the brim
of each death-defying word,

    a woman. lying naked,
nailed to the Earth, burning
   auburn-bright from windows
a wraith unannounced without a diadem
    even, consoling the heavy lark
of the doused dark with something
    weightless swinging against
the boughs — shuddering after a great
   fall from presence to heart's pompous
   flare. flat is the world
and light, the bendable one:

   laugh, laugh, brave the hill
  and behind the bramble, the dimly lit
   foliage you are there
   from the tumble: an aureole
     simmering in the unbeknownst.