The cella in the Erechtheion unsettling the rosettes
father spat against the astragal, glazing the glazing bars
rising through irregular patch and path marks
his Cross of Lorraine, like keyed flowers from the peristyle 

father spat against the astragal, glazing the glazing bars
I weep often for at night and take so neatly in my hands
his Cross of Lorraine, like keyed flowers from the peristyle
the fear of him moving as the silence within me

I weep often for at night and take so neatly in my hands
rising through irregular patch and path marks
the fear of him moving as the silence within me
the cella in the Erechtheion unsettling the rosettes