The Little Girl Skipped By Under The

I, In My Brand New Body, Which Was Not A Woman's Yet, Told The Stars My Questions And Thought God Could Really See The Heat And The Painted Light, Elbows, Knees, Dreams, Goodnight.

O Fallen Angel, The Companion Within Me, Whisper Something Holy Before You Pinch Me Into The Grave.

The Sea Is Mother-death And She Is A Mighty Female, The One Who Wins, The One Who Sucks Us All Up.

As For Me, I Am A Watercolor. I Wash Off.

We Talked Death With Burned-up Intensity, Both Of Us Drawn To It Like Moths To An Electric Light Bulb. Sucking On It!