After Magnolia

You suck the palebright petal dark since it’s A sickening that still forgives-you-not Your trespasses, the ones that set you going Like the ticked spittle of some rogue telegram to Everyone that reads: stop, stop, stop, stop, stop—

And so you do, seatbelted hard by God, ’til Rain steams off the brittle musk of you, Rivering windows and a word to the wise As your pulse conjures the true song right up.