Here women so frightened…bring their sex
with evidences of rampages…they ask
abstracted fucking medics…to forgive,
forgive and understand…and heal.
That coke-nose has a secret…hidden…hidden in her crotch
And she holds, she holds…some kind of order slip
a clue in triplicate…at a loss…at a loss…FOR THE PROPER DESK
they will bleed her…and splay her…and bed her
in sheets too white…in a bed too narrow
now the women around…will tend her sardonically
while men with hands…scrubbed too often will peer
into
the heart…the heart…of anfractuous love
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