Seething in ignominy
teething through honeycombed cells
like years of blessed, prison virginity
tonight was so much like a tangent
to the great aura of life
and so acutely, actually poignant
you would say my dolls are no more,
my teddy bears have all thumped out
and left a great slump to wonder at,
to stare serenely past at the whiteness shrouds
of all our aged miseries,
widows seeking together places
to enter one another,
to stare at the vast and vivid stretches
of our vacant shores
to delve down the mysteries and
the walking shadows of our nothingness
to draw a finger cracking across
our dragging lips,
our stretches of heartbreaking,
remote nonsense.