Requiem for a Girl

A red smudge has smeared the sparkle of white
teeth in the pit of the jaws that spat out its
thorn, as if from afar, who knows when,
who knows where, ravens would take off
in their most ardent plea, but from the haven of the loved one,
before the veiled face,
the voice would crack and sink
into the holy symbol. At dawn,
it would start conquering the vastness of tender designs; let us love!
Oh, startled tufts, heavy is the symbol;
Oh, lovely cliff, overheated are the oceans; oh, fish
immaculate, the cradle of peace. Anointed are the bubbles
in the pit of the jaws that spat out its thorn;
anointed are the bodies of elusive solitudes;
anointed are the sighs of the approaching;
anointed are anointments with the sword of the cross,
with the sword of silence, with the sword of hell. Crumbled are the pillars,
that gave support to the noblest shudder. Rejected
blues, blue, kind, mythical blues, sparkle in their completeness
which cannot be claimed even by the sheen of everyday. On the
overheated sky the stars battle the blood
of speech, and on my shore, a seaweed-spangled fish
swallows the azure star.
I beseech my myrrh; from head to tail, the fish scrapes itself
with the knife’s handle. I see: chopped up, someone will bury it in embers.
The ancient horrors will be horrified! The red blade will awake
from a cloud, there, somewhere in the pit of the jaws!