What if it was mine?

And from its hiding place it came to me

And asked me to listen to the voice of

Its wounds?

In its throat would come the sound of

Mother, beautiful and fine!



There were birds in that religion, blonde

Birds, and light, a short shine and twinkle,

When the churn of my fever scared me

And the moon watched with ashy envy.



What if alone it found the way?

Inspired with a boy's desire to seek the

Shapes of a man in my dark blue heart.

In its eyes would hold the questions of

God, and I would break myself on its

Rocks, and tell what I had to say.



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