(Eriatarka)
Reformed was a wolf man in orange hair,
Impaired by his pigment an infancy brew,
The heaps they were stowed into his glare,
A dance of orange blaze set haze anew.

Born without a hole yet four remained still,
Into the coil of roses for the silky wife,
Ployed to have her hanged atop the mill,
Then gutted from the nave to steal her life.

Portraits of the widow in her precious box,
There drew a concern of her ruby ways,
Letter read maths of the poison she talks,
In a guise betokened was the end of days.

“Miranda that man looks oddly at ease”,
The fish between the flesh I desire please.

(Clairvoyance)
A dream,
So fond of you,
And all these gestures now,
I have not been asleep long enough,
To feel.

(Eidolon)
There was a mandible in the cordial box,
Miranda always loved them articulate,
Here lies the sheep just as his fox,
This room is small enough to wish for.

Miranda always loved them articulate,
And in each month of the sun she died,
This room is small enough to wish for,
In the clammy dusk the moonlapse sighed.

And in each month of the sun she died,
In the desert come to see her dance,
In the clammy dusk the moonlapse sighed,
A slight return and a beckoned glance.

In the desert come to see her dance,
Here lies the sheep just as his fox,
A slight return and a beckoned glance,
There was a mandible in the cordial box.

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One thought on “The Mandible in Miranda’s Cordial Box

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