The first thing in the morning is the second;
antesolesen
Say that three times for breakfast.
Four eyes, gloss to glass, dots dilated;
o pray, young death – your prey is waiting-
come now and find me still unannihilated.
The immaculate sorrow of a widowless groom;
all the anticlimax of a sinless doom.
Echo dislocation from a rhythmless tune;
hang in there, and I will spell
something very else
for
you: