Defeat!

Tune your discord-

ant cymbals

that they

no longer shiver

the inner canals

of my (now latched) ears.

Yes. My ears locked

against your wood spoon

on a tin pan. I

called the birds

to lift my hair

& they came

(they understand

the holy

& are ready

always to help

a girl in trouble. I

am my flying body. You,

an idea.

Barren,

no less.