She was born under a great big sigh,
Her bower bloomed as she breached the sky,
If I say I was unfazed, it is a raging lie,
When her beauty is uncaged, tears slip from my eye.
What I wouldn’t give,
Oh, I wouldn’t live,
Recreating that age-long cry,
Of that bitter pang that split our sky.
Let’s meet, discreet,
Some place untrampled by feet,
Render me complete,
Back to your bower,
I lay at your feet.
I’d lie if I did not say,
I beg at the maternal seat.
Detest me, strike me off,
Oh, say you little bug, clear-off,
Don’t you dare entreat,
To nest at my holy feat,
You so sundered from the divine,
How dare you use my line,
Molasses seeping from lips marred,
As if you’d let it seep up to heavenly Ma?
Oh wicked me, thrash me about the head,
One rush of blood and I’ll put this abed,
Would that I love you, not your mum instead,
My petty fortune would be better led.
I beg, prithee, give me sign,
That between me and mine,
There is a through-line,
To the divine.
The Emergent Sea 