Submit me your voices, your legend,
Where the God of ancient pillars,
Crumbling red stone from his lips,
Smiled to his hands, loving, carnivorous.
A word, uttered from in-between
Of the pygmy brushes, perverted magic
Upon the wooden masks
Blistering sagged breasts -
Ailing pink, worth both artistic
And bridal commitments,
Blinking through tinted ivory.
And where earth caught his foot
And threw it back one more time
To her archenemy and continuation,
I stood, violent-cramping my throat,
Ready for home flights; instant messaging;
Another letter of revelation,
Or merely would-Be? Would.
Bee, bee, be! Me.