Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate


And the Lord said
Let there be Thunder
Tatterdemalions arise
Picked up by the bus under
The nameless streets to the bitter end

The anodyne of my eye
My sister’s curse
The one by which
The cypress trees
Rehearse
Their sky-high cries

Her paean becomes her tirade
Watermelon rhines, peach pits
All good things come to an end
As she soars to new heights
Then Screaming Lakes swallow her
This relentless pagan

This fair child
She played one
The almighty father
The Morning Star
And the Holy Son

Laughs do the Fallen Angels
Gasp does the fallen child
Long ago astray from the diritta via
Serpents beckon her further away
Towards the point of no return

Her visage, her award
A Potemkin Village
Of good omens and “Fragonard”
But all she has is a pack of smokes
And the coins on her eyes, her tokens

Some would call it
A connection of souls

Others
The meeting of earth and sky
She
Would call it Redemption
"Be kind,
For everyone you know
If fighting a great battle"