a gender-modified golden shovel of Revelations 17:6
And how the pros sparkled! I thought I’d play this game best
when playing my betters. Up close to the net, pivotless,
I felt myself most alive when being slaughtered. Everyone
saw the shame, how swiftly it came to its descendant. Dark heirs
then cookies in a star tin. I licked the sweetness from each surface.
I thought I could handle it. Maybe a teeny tinge even
wondered. But you read me like a feather set on fire is the entirety
with us: a flame between two pages sharing a bench. Your words or Scriabin’s.
Great Coincidence, please take what you’ve won. Conceive my
admiration. Your head in my words—eros, cinders.