And she fell upon a bed of rubies and sapphires
And cut off the thorns in her back
And like a tender frond curled up
Under weeping plum blossoms
Kissed by shadows of fallen statues
And bent angels blackened by night
And it's pale host which bathed her hair
In silvery glimmers and shafts that
Pierce thru the eyes of the sea's skin
And crawls with hunger for the siren's song.
