The pleas of desperate pilgrims Desperate relics reverberate day after day ‘cross this grassy plain I've spent many a decade here Watching, wasting Waiting for Bernadette to appear
The world is a jilted love where the harvest always fails and the moon is never full
Years I've waited for you to carve my name In some hallowed place in that black forest of yours.
We once gorged on amber gateaux. You'd stick your tongue in my mouth And become a carnivore
Abandoned, you left a quill on a pillow Still fresh with your dent
Now language is my master.
You, I'll trade you this blood diamond For some magic beans The one he gave me before he disappeared
But I am not Naomi Campbell Minerals do not appease me
I turn the television on- Aladdin. Animated crap. The Arabs chop off thieves' hands You stole my heart but your hands are in tact
I wonder do you use them- Carpenter, perhaps. Cartographer of souls.
The world makes me laugh
My lungs ought to have run dry. Crying as I have done, uninhibited into the night Undignified
Are you in my orbit? I wonder Or did you prise me from your atmosphere He who reduces me to naught but bones and Turns me into a martyr
I summon Bernadette at the front of the grotto Waiting for her to appear To cure me