S I S T E R
From scrap defeat came true sun-dress,
In which you made for wedding-ring.
Let into beggary your tress
Tomorrow morning middling king.
Stars tidy choke in soaring flight
By airless fraud as ice-floe heart.
You must collect oneself bright light
Remain quite just a little but
Decay by fragrance daily trouble
Decrepit slimy sounds spread
And instants bliss arise like bubble
Of sleep, when day you shot drunk dead.
An sometimes want to haul on
Transparent thickness — window-pane
You fear life and don’t long
Next to mind’s eye of funny rain.
Than still search for defense in prayer
In idle talk replacement drug,
It’s lightly —cross on neck, than bear
One’s cross and know about struggle.
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