Fallen angel
with your skirt pulled back low
let me drink from your forest
as your heart bounds forward
in a radiant fresh water pool
With razor in hand it will cut your neck
until the tendon is gently torn from the bone
In your blood I will wallow as the fish run in the bare fallow
with desolate cream they touch your tangled hair
The meat is tender and the brisket garnished
with turpentine in a handyman's gigolo sun
For the morsels will be sparse but the tongue is shallow and pretty
for in crimson blood we pull back the shades and do our naked dance
here in the heat
Because your breasts are ephemeral as they are taken from me and given to you
Oh Lord! how I cry as the seasons progress
My fragrant flower withers to astragalus and in the vetch I see only hope
Rocky debris ripped from the sloth, a means to receive messages from you
However humble I am, I grovel to the source, reach back and take from the valley
what had once been provided for you in your name
For the wretch is a pea or a corn from whoever is likely to remit
In the shadows you see the silhouette there, a figuration of the pine
down to the nape of her perseverating toes
But remember her body before it was lacerated to bits,
the curvature of her spine and the pliancy of her buttocks
But ah! it was the countenance upon her face, the sweetness, the serenity
that had helped her to be so dear
But this was long before the meal began
Before the teeth had gnashed upon the flesh, grinding, grating, rubbing
with the acumen of a sick dog with penis projected forward
For you are the dinner, the luncheon, the dessert
the blue plate special upon which the monster lurks
Let him rip into your sinews and massacre your holes
New vitality will arise, the vigor of the beast, the potency of Mephistopheles,
the Prince of Darkness, the King of Hell
For the fiery coals will rock and fall upon a curly head
With the wrath of the netherworld asteroids will project the image of a wandering star
No marble for your apple, no orb for your planetoid or terrene
Only a lass with her skirt pulled up high, circling the lonely stratosphere
searching for a powerful, unforgettable global mount