You, clipped little fragments
divided and crumbled
as the asymmetrical pinions
of the Winged Samothrace,
I spoke ****** soft spoken”
unedited, fluid, effortless,
aroused by Fortune
and I was christened
within rapture, your creator’s
“poisoned wounds” and “secret pains”
electrifying my heart and mind
inspiring such a preface
such a volatile violet passion
and I am moved by this color
by this flower
by this name
those fragrances still pouring
centuries after decimated
marble, demolished syllables
slaughtered by gender or genius
status or progression