Little girl
with crazy eyes feral and dirty in tattered
strips of skins- sits
high on a pile of
bones.
Bloody bones, polished stones can you see my
fate?
Crazy eyes roll back in
her head- she was the
oracle at two- taken
from home with prayers
and processions, raised with
snakes, sharp as the
bramble bushes wild as the
dust devils.
Bloody bones, polished stones can you see my
fate?
I come with my
offerings: honey sweet,
drop of blood, meat from the
hunt a gold bead
from my wedding dress.
Bloody bones, polished stones can you see my
fate?
Little girl
with crazy eyes writhes with
knowledge wrestles with
power. She knows
nothing else and she knows
all.
Bloody bones polished stones, can you see my
fate?
What happens to the husk when the Gods drain the skin
dry? I look in her
eyes- an endless
space of endless
sight. Fate is a pair
of sharp and
deadly fangs. She strikes and I fall and I
fall and I fall.
Bloody bones, polished stones, can you see my
fate?
