I Put The Gold Star Up In

Being Kissed On The Back Of The Knee Is A Moth At The Windowscreen.

Today God Gives Milk / And I Have The Pail.

Give Me Your Skin As Sheer As A Cobweb, Let Me Open It Up And Listen In And Scoop Out The Dark.

The Stars Are Pears That No One Can Reach, Even For A Wedding. Perhaps For A Death.

I Am Tearing The Feathers Out Of The Pillows, Waiting, Waiting For Daddy To Come Home And Stuff Me So Full Of Our Infected Child That I Turn Invisible, But Married, At Last.