Dressed in blood white, white gold.
Litany, your lip, pursed with
Not that, this. This!
Petal skip, arch over brow,
Vased with beauteous this.
Not earth, not sisters, not sweet soil, not sun.
A vase, a stranger, a sink’s water, a bulb.
This you had been given, not that natural.
Still this beauteous gift, your swift breath
Ever this you give back.