Naomi Replansky

…When that joy is gone for good I move the arms beneath the blood. When my blood is running wild I sew the clothing of a child. When that child is never born I lean my breast against a thorn. When the thorn brings no reprieve I rise and live, I rise and live. When I live from hand to hand Nude in the marketplace I stand. When I stand and am not sold I build a fire against the cold. When the cold does not destroy I leap from ambush on my joy…

In syrup, in syrup, In syrup we drown, Who sell ourselves With a sparkling smile. Padded with pathos Our winding sheet. The bomb bounded By buxom beauties. Horror gelded By the happy ending. How can we swim Who hold to our haloes? Down we go, down In syrup, in syrup.