All
All the beautiful women in my life
were called Sadie or Sadist I forget
the color of that flower also its name
now that you ask
where I have been these past few months
between the solstice and the total eclipse
of all that we once had known
or thought mistakenly to know.
Perhaps the snow blinded us
or we gazed too long at the startled sun
forgetting our strict instructions
like so many others
who had assembled there for the event
that came and went
without a word without a breath
while the dancers so young filled the streets
and the fields with a sort of silent song
thinking they could go on and on.
-- Michael Palmer, Little Elegies for Sister Satan
