As her fingers  clicked pictures

of black and blue philosophies,

heads will roll theologies,



hands-and-feet bureaucracies

(which trade little girls

for photos as glossy

as snake lips)…

Aidos, goddess of shame,


about how to

crumple His world into

a paper ball…

while she smoked,

ashes as white

as human snowflakes


from the shade

of her cigarette…

He sold Himself

sold Himself

sold Himself

as if a person should be…


As if a God could be


to a goddess of shame…

She was a queen of hearts

shame base

I’ll-eat-you-for-dinner hate face

and he was a wild card

buying back Snowflake specters

from hell-bent ferries…

drowning power trips and hissing lips

some place under the river Styx


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