Saw Melancholia's gaunt face
and gown-saw her strap down
her ecstasy in an alleyway.
Evening came brine-packed
from the bog while I slept
all night in my rusty car.
Knew the tang of scat in the bog,
fields yielding their corn sugars
to beasts of burden. We shall
have plain Words upon our Tomb.
This sisterhood is misshapen.Tomorrow I'll ride toward
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