1696 c/o Cassandra Gillig

 
The Party as Necropolis

To the ground--
slinging fire
from imagined
filaments
& fixtures

against
some
futuristic
proclivity,
sense of
finality.

I will scream
light: mild
tumult as
spark of
trachea
bludgeoned;

masochistic
like the syn-
copation of
reticence.

The things
I take are mine
because fear
wills them.

Hazy,
you liked
my voice.