Martha

I
The horizons left me……floated in the hell,
feathers paralyzed,
This…my ruin of the recessive innocence:
The last pitch of existence, I note
The pigeoning of god, trading of men,
Reasoning of the sufferings, cold mad eyes,
I have smelt the cotton-cousins
In the cornskin and odd choking powders.
Spoiled for ego, rescued mascot of dead
I let these bars fill my curse:
God! If you forgive the sin of the men
You are burdened with my blood
And shall be cursed if my death is true.

II
The Homo-bultimus forages the buildings
The last sapiens rumbles in fodder.
His hide cured, tempered well;
His semen rot and gravewombs bear
The dead head down the legs.

Smiling and could it be a case of tomorrow;
I am Priestess encaged in dark-futures
Now rising omen through fumes:
Their beginning bears my blood
And end breeds my smile.
The cotton-sapiens welcomes the toddler
Who pulls its nose and ears
Says 'You stare, I will burn you in my new sun.'
The man, Mr. Doblob Inadam says 'No, Margeon poke it not,
It's sold. Monsieur Cincinnati drives soon
And loads it down the edges of his coop.

The wife, Aukscowtha Ineve blackened and swept
And lightened deep like crest of mine, says
'Anniversary is joyous and we
Since married like pigeons lift and never fall'
The husband replies:
'Dear, celebrations in dual are here roomed;
The cake unfolding speaks: last-sapiens-cake: HMA/BD
The clock crows 'Fourteen after ninety-nine,
First of my September. Noon is one.'

The son rockets in….. picks uncaged
Me…..I unfold with my fleshy breast
Tossed with the perilous feathers
Flap, clasping my victory
In sapiens-shoulders and the head….
beautiful and dead.

The son speaks his delight:
'Happy before nine and twenty,
The hearts were busy alone.
I live through this day and today
Tri-joy of being, is here:
She too breathed from the DNALand.'