hudsondsp-blog

[hudsondsp-blog]

1.

Cold, she was cold, our celestial babe

above all breaches of proper deporture,

when I saw her through my astrolabe

and told everyone to expect a scorcher,

cold when I was taken to Abu Ghraib

as a mad dog and subjected to torture,

but once the powerful pull the leash

and drag you away from sculpting men

you’re closer to the disgraceful niche

and dynamite in the form of your pen,

you’re closer to hoisting a black flag

(fashioned from your priestly threads)

above the quarters of every evil rag,                  

above a parliament of lowered heads.