Pretty maidens (now profaned) supplicate
Branded tympanies deaf to their cascades,
Night’s mantle, a thief, and the girl of eight.
The sheets and my systole punctuate
This jostled gaze, this fragile hold of flight,
Pretty maidens (now profaned) supplicate.
The unadorned bantam, the sovereign state
Climbing trees, muddy feet, spring faeries,
Night’s mantle, a thief, and the girl of eight.
Gather up the remains, girls; bifurcate
Your infinite sorrows and smiling face,
Pretty maidens (now profaned) supplicate.
Come undone, splayed, we fade and dissipate
Where love might have lived: now the siren’s cell,
Night’s mantle, a thief, and the girl of eight.
But our hearts are not homes we can vacate,
No - our hearts are fallow fields. My sisters,
Pretty maidens (once profaned) supplicate
Night’s mantle - no thief - just the lives we create.
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