Legions of lesions like leeches lashing
with their leashes
Obscuring the skin on the neck or the
width of the word
Rumbling with razors racing rashly
against the rocks where the ravens are
Digging into the the edges of the scab
or the breath of her voice
Erstwhile everything waits entranced
for the emperor's entrance
Already seeing the wake of his cloth or
the semblance of his girth
Rebels rousing the revenge-mad ruins
with raw red rain
To see the crumbling stone or the child
with no mother
Holy holes helping with a holocaust
without humor or humanity
I sleep no more.
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