pointed elbows exposing armpits bare,
stripped to the waist with palms stroking hair-
on the desk she rests
spreading pleats sprung fair:
discussing profit and loss
with a dire shriek of blood-
this could have been our savor.
downward, downward, downward.
(is this a pulse or just a flush,
or just a nickle pad of doom,
or just escape from the tethers of swoon,
rappelling off-white into Hades?)
sharply spared of wrinkle,
there are crisp linen panels.
we wince at reports of the Thessalonian drowning
a suitable dirge will have to be composed.