LADY MADRIGAL The Beaten Child said, “Pour my blood into the sea, who'll notice?

It's all salt...” Play the anthem of a girl who wore a mask of madrigals. Voices in and voices out, so many faces has the child who bore the lust, and dirty fingers, and cold and careless comings. A monster stirred her with his chill and bathed her in his usage. To betray her heart. To erase her name. He was a monster unsleeping. Her twin shut lips hide her pain, her shame... and control her angry weeping. Mankind went on trial in her wound. And when she ran, she spread the blood upon the grass, which became the pathway blood of madness. She was followed by a tall man with a cane, whose tapping marked the slap of rain on a slanted looking glass. Pray for her, her antic flight, her stained red bright bare feet. Pray for her Sweet baby girl, fear the tall man in the murder suit. Fear his play. Drunk on what brew, and what mammoth swaying beast sought to soil this beloved child, and flamed her face away O' lamb of wisdom, meet me at the door of love with pale roses and your holy dove and a map of my beloved Watch her... barefoot on adobe, walk the stations of the cross, smeared with ashes and a white shawl, count her garnets, step and chant...

The Child-Become-Woman spoke, “Trade my rose for time... my longings outlast the dead.” She called the hip chill angels...invoked their cool, to hide there, therein... The nighthorn showered her with poetic motes. And she caressed the brass, her face in the stream... And she became a queen of flowers, she became my Lady Madrigal. So full of faces is my woman, upglancing grin, favoring and fey. She is a tour of softness, wanton softness, with a mane. Face of changes...same is as different does... and that was inviting unto spirits, and out they came with words, and asked in the angelic tongue of stars, "Do you think, Foolish Man, when you touch her things, she won't feel it...?"

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