(To
whom it may concern…)
Mate,
when maggots have had their way with me
And
my voice is an echo of past years—
A
moon in some planetary, far-off sphere
That
is like wizardry—by God’s decree:
That
Song of Songs shall bring me to thee.
The
pen within my hands, its flame shall sear
The
dragon’s mouth that slanders thee, with fear:
The
reprisals of Love’s sovereignty!
Mate,
fates now in black ivy tombs, long dead
Whom
God allows, like vipers-rats to bask,
Would
lead you into infamy, and compel
Your
soul to a tempest into Tartarus
To
tie tight, your tongue within your head—
Rest
your ashes on the steps to heaven!
No: 4468 (7-15-2014)
