"I am the daughter of

Fortitude

ravished every hour

from my youth.

the heavens oppress me.

They covet and desire

me with infinite appetite;

none that are

dust have fucked

me, for I am moon

mirror and see

-the as sea as blood

. my hands sweeter than

morning.

My garments are

from the beginning,

and my

dwelling place is in myself. The Lion knows

where I walk,

the beasts

of the field understand me. I am

deflowered, yet virgin;

I sanctify am not sanctified.

in the night

season I am sweet,

in the day

full of convulsions.

My company

a harmony

of many symbols, and my lips

sweeter than health itself.

I am a harlot

for rapists,

a virgin

for eunuchs.

Purge your streets, O ye sons of men,

and wash

your houses clean;

make yourselves

holy, and put on

righteousness.

Cast out your old strumpets, and burn their clothes and

then I will bring forth children.

they shall be the Sons of

Comfort in the Age that is to come."

they have crammed my mouth

full with their dust

tongues their ash

en teeth they have fucked

me 69

ways to Sunday they

write manuals on my permutations

and fondle

my sons

in choir lofts, in nave

and sacristy

and

never once

cried my name.