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.