Most Worshipful Lords and Ladies in Waiting;
She looks happy as a waxwork she likes she likes to be
set on the mantle of yoga look at her arms her arms her arms are they hairy and
sexless as white as the moon I wish I could keep them in chains call me
unstable and stone me her stomach but is this the end of the tale? what of her
children under the bed shall we eat them for breakfast and drink fresh
rainwater from their empty heads their cleft and porous constitutions
congregated at the bucket where we keep our tannered leatherns and the sexton
gnarls his pike her crotchless pants are bearing all the weight of indolence
and there'll be another moon before she's putrid and there'll be another wane
before she's flecked all brazen and coutured up with lashes mannequinned and
riven degraded raffled unconsecrated and splashed with a bucket of violet
pomagne as sticky as a bell boys pant and fleeced for all her pearls and tongue
the tongue which wept with gall and kept her marbles unconstrained she is the
ghost of my dead lover she is the spirit of aborted hope she is the holy clown-ess of revenance she is the sextet's fluter she is the limp bedraggled cat that bit the holy congress
wiped her face with windowlene and leapt to the death of a thousand besotments
caustic as a plastic whistle fake and hollow like my dreams constantly folding
and burning and brewing like alchemy in the car wash like the chemical dreams
of least assumption blue and marbled as my meat the cleaver wants his
vengeance isn’t she a dandy tart as wet as fortune in her doldrums dripping
sexless Lady Macbeth-like beneath a lovers mask there’s always another one there's always a kidney pebble shorn from the hair of Jupiter and her mother she was a vixen cubbing in the
starlight of earl soham glancing like a flaying bat but you came here for my baby and I gave you
all I had. Fragments of parch. A lead weight. Heart prints of merriment and
white calf skin gloves. Indelible blueness resides in her countenance soft as
deportment she falls to forever candidly taking her leave of the earth.
There was no confession – the soul is legitimately
calumnified.
The lover had fled presumably to a place of summary
dispatch.
Five rubies and a watch chain reclaimed.
This was the eclipse of the ninth.
This was the eclipse of the ninth.
In great faith
Milton
On behalf of the Procurator.
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