Give me the common or the rare, as they roll
We are mistaken in what we survive,
in what we must eliminate.
The ladies at the plate glass persist,
reviving their brutal martyrdoms,
worn thin by the abuse of soap,
the contour of teacups in unison
against smallpox, cosmetic agriculture,
and wartime rape. And a woman
they believe unrecognizable
She is given to volatility around faith.
Faith in where the unlivable gathers
like wild yeast's affinity for chance
where sexual impatience bursts from ...