osculation for easter flower

　　 by Sandra Miller

　　 if we weren't made of soot which we highly suspected/respected

　　 in her garden she had no garden

　　 we did not love her we did not let her picture fall from our wall

　　 forgive & foment no one kissed me where

　　 like bad jewels good black dirt

　　 what song can't do & does magnificent thumper in the wild

　　 'the secret blackness of milk' 'sordid intimacy of the abyss'

　　 when it became a corolla flickers

　　 you are like an angel yelling for

　　 attention still more still

　　 my lamentation is as perfect an almond a shell

　　 her eyes an altitude amnesic lover

　　 gathered her skirts to the blond chapel

　　 altarbirds follow us herehere herehere