she is porous and kempt
underneath seven layers of tunneling veins

the first chronicles birth to end birth
her cycle
regular load
warm rinse
tumble dry

the second spoons out perverses
honey drizzle on her sacred bell
all for a man to dine and dash
Christ died for her sinful pleasures

the third cultivates fear of yellows
caution, wet floor
your father's skin three days before expiration
lemon lozenge in baby's gorge

the fourth is paralysis
in sleep in speech
in speep in sleech
in in in
in slurry sleep in
in snory speech

the fifth tickles her eyelashes
soft legs soon to amputate
wishes many a wishes
self-ful sacrifices

the sixth weighs a wagon and a mule
which will carry better?
her only baggage is a clove of garlic
a wooden axe
and birthday twine

the seventh encases in a web
a black button estranged from mothercoat

she is beneath this button coin
a porous sponge-doll
gowned in sheer satin night
she is kempt after all