I became
its requirements.
I
woke at cadence, to meet as disgruntle,
staring
at chiseled thighs: the self-made
vixen,
the Valentino model, inner
hieroglyphics
(men dying, existent
a
curse, at births, laughing with false
excitement)—the
mental slant, this relished
rehearsal,
those nine hours at studies: if
but
that test, to confess our genius, as
opposed
to the variance, by the
approvals:
extraordinaire women,
debonair
poets, the scientific
countenance—
forever reaching, damn near
pushing
through psychotic dimensions.
