Why do you go there?
All that asbestos, rusty pipes hanging
the white thighs of your woman
hair knotted, roped, flowing waves that follow
with insects tangled
scorpions
water bugs
crawling things
teeth red and dripping
the blood of your children.
She eats them she is eating you
those round agates you call the child
the work of crystals
doped with potash
sedentary impurities
kept in a deep vault
you in your death grinding them ever smaller
exceedingly
you ask so little
to have them stolen away and set in silver
by a follower of Dionysus.
I hear the dull thud of bodies
thrown in a heap
after your slab cutting saw has opened their guts.
of garnet blood.
Death devours
your kinderen.
By the of the first wheel, you reduce them,
empty their bowels and washing in clear warmth
the succor of the wetting stream.
To the second the dull buzz of their nails clipped and neatened
to the third their navels cleaned
and fourth hair shaped and combed
the fifth a special problem no turning back
and the sixth, too soon, a dullness impossible to remove,
timed properly adds a luxuriant glow to their skin.
Do you long to come out, into light again?
From your dungeon, dark as Hades?
Damp and wet, a place of crimes,
you stand on earth stained and lay bare your soul.
