There are two-sided arrows
pointing toward her spotted heart,
a restless one and a mournful one
damned one for her lover
of the cracked truant night;
the one who escaped her hanging
who loved her blinding outbursts
cried over her first
laughed at the wit and charm
another aim for the one
who stayed put, her faithful man
towards the other part of her descent
A man, growing deeply out of her mouth
falling for her poetic side
down her pretty lips
She has listless meaningless qualities
filling her wide mind with
exaggerated power, taste full of dawdling
cuisine.
She cannot choose between
destiny and fate
her glory pointing poisoned tips
she is a fugitive of nonsense
her arrow landing far from the field—
she is a witness
of her own rage.
