There Is Rust In My Mouth,the Stain

Jewels! Today Each Twig Is Important, Each Ring, Each Infection, Each Form Is All That The Gods Must Have Meant.

Sometimes I Fly Like An Eagle But With The Wings Of A Wren

Cinderella And The Prince Lived, They Say, Happily Ever After, Like Two Dolls In A Museum Case Never Bothered By Diapers Or Dust, Never Arguing Over The Timing Of An Egg, Never Telling The Same Story Twice.

My Faith Is A Great Weight Hung On A Small Wire, As Doth The Spider Hang Her Baby On A Thin Web.

I Have Forgiven All The Old Actors For Dying. A New One Comes On With The Same Lines, Like Large White Growths, In His Mouth. The Dancers Come On From The Wings, Perfectly Mated.