i am less than nothing if i did not
come to you in a dream, as bold
as a ruined body and in flames,
in spite, shuddering, but your grace
is everything to me as i am nothing
to you now but where must i be if i cannot step into your mind of a cathedral, of mind a few chastes
and all i want; mouth of holy
threshold, body of renaissance and
all gothic pristine. who am i, disembodied grace and only born
out of a vanquish after a seance in
a loveless bedroom.
