She may sleep here
moaning like fast cars
on smooth roads
shaking
the blue bed you lie on

you trudge through garden blood
like some drunk
never seeing
those who want love

Stare after her and picture
cool spring skin
with frantic sad power

How silly photographs seem,
until years later,
you look
and see
and realize
"I was happy once."

the girl would use her dress
to manipulate boys
and put them in
a void head storm watch

chant essentially
elaborate tongues
and drive gorgeous
soaring fiddles
while recalling a dreamy mist
like music

true iron worship
became ugly after
the rusty goddess
whispered "stop"

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