whore blood i got

and a pig heart

made mistakes i tied in sacks

like kittens in a lake

and i’ve thunk awful thoughts

nuff to make my mother cry

nuff to put me in the clink

until the day i die

and you’re all guilty too

all mangled out of shape

lopsided rusted dirty beaten stupid

frail fake

and i am beautiful

and with the faintest touch

i can take my woman’s little face

and lite it up

can save a drowning man

hold an abandoned hand

fall out the window laughing

kneel with a wedding band

in this we’re all the same

not guilty full of blame

so incandescent so atrocious

saintly so profane

there aint no legend there

not buried nor alive

just a lassie using flora as a metaphor

for her own wounded heart

and she don’t know it yet

that she’s no better or no worse

than all us other bores