The giant urns

    In the garden

Frosted eyes

  And bloody lips

   I have a remnant of the epistle

    Hidden in the Bowery

    Step three times to the left

    With your hand on your face

     Make no sound

     But the archless 

Cast a bow

   Into the water

   And now the body of salt 

   Like a mothers dream

For you 

To be safe 

   And happy

Arise!