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