As
the boy in the attic
tunes his guitar to another aspect of his soul
it fills the space, vitality trembles, trebles

the girl in the kitchen
fits the end of a bagel between her teeth
And wishes that she wasn't so cold
or May wasn't so extensive
or purity of heart so elusive

the recluse is gone, in her place
the ghost of what was sorrowful,
grateful,
now complacent.

chamomile tea, solution
in which dissolve
thought
action
conscience
love

Jesus is an intellectual concession
Sin is an unfortunate obstacle
innocence is ambitious, an assumption foregone
love is the momentary dictation

speak o heart

lying under your heavy blanket
cry infant submission
cry bloody conception, the water
and the blood

hyssop
and i shall be clean