In Ashen
In the graying City of Ashen they tell of times when young
Sister Knack rose - one early dew struck dawn, rose
early between the crush of sisters one on each side
and from neath her pillow palmed the purloined Whispering
Charm with purest instinct for passions urges fire wished
her
sallow sisters light and heat and flame of purpose, implored
with eyes squinched shut -please- until flung scald wide at bony
shards
of sudden cindered sisters struck her naked arms in their
drift swirling
the cold room as rose petal scatter about her head lighting
her
small mystic shoulders -
in that bed alone that morning in the
graying City of Ashen where they tell the story as warning
of colors conflagration
