Modesty Is Of No Use

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.

How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The Ground, Stepping A-tiptoe On The Heads Of Men.

Here, Therefore, Huge And Mighty Warrior Though You Be, Here Shall You Die.

In Saffron-colored Mantle From The Tides Of Oceans Rose The Morning To Bright Light To Gods And Men.

Dreams Are Sent By God.