disheartened. Wondering what make of clay

she had been when breathed into by Gods

I didn’t know or care to cause

any knowledge of or hardship for. I meant only plainly

In my stare and its consequence of partiality

To see a beautiful thing so cautionary in its being

I felt benign, foreign, endlessly hoping.

    But she took no suitors;

The manner of our first speaking

out of an accidental union at a night of drinking,

and her laugh drowning my aspect,

and her beauty a cascading faucet

to maybe savor before the gallows

with intoxicating, deep swallows.

I am here vulnerable,

And she, dismissing, venerable

    But she took none of my loving cries.

When cornered by her for what I had just seen, I squirmed

and she pushed forward, and to a corner turned

with her hand on my chest.

In my confusion, I saw Art and Nature’s death

the confessions before stunned me. Still

she killed then with words that trilled

“I’ll fuck you again if you don’t tell

of the day I kissed Professor Shelly”

    But she now only forever a stranger.