Isn't this the nebula?
Virginal eyes of the archer
She stood there—even
The sun would mourn
For her
The afternoons are long;
The hours kept vigil
Hushing the corses'
Remains—as if
Not dead enough
Not sinful enough
Was I once your most sullen
Or was your mouth once
more sacred than my fears—
Like a god's? Say I want
You; would you bone
Me? Let me waste away?
In the luminous, in this nebula?
Aren't you the prophecy
Itself?
Once the truth gouged the
Once virginal eyes of the
Once true blue archer
Now, it is eve; one so somber
You aren't so good
With what you do
Whose last victim are you—
Mine? The sun's?
There you were; top
Of the hill, giving in
To the light
As if I have not given
You enough—
As if vestal gods
Wept vestal tears—
You almost killed
a thousand of them
But one of them
Applauds right now
