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



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