My sisters drowsed among the flowers
drunk with longing, drunk with love,
in their familiar mental moonlight,
dreaming fulfilment, fingers tearing
hymens of unopened buds.
The God came in his car
daily, snatched me away.
My sisters waited, silenced
by his appalling wealth.
Their pale flesh sickened him.
He scorned their gaping rapture.
We left them fluttering
hysterical white hands.
Life had no images
but those fixed in his eye.
We burned along the highways
in his outlandish car.
Earth, a pastoral dream;
sea, membranes of colour.
Far off, the tarnished cities
glittered with abstract light.
Somehow our bodies solved
all physical equations,
keeping his pulse beat hours.
Today I took the wheel
drunk with violence, drunk with love.
Down, down through private horror
the bright disc spun towards me,
matter and colour fused
the world in one explosion.
My head lolls on its stalk.
My sisters kneel beside me
stroking my hair and screaming
at the darkness on their fingers.