The Pen in My Hand

Our Lady of Kewpie Dolls

It’s all old lilacs, isn’t it

Violet? The same strange

shenanigans of shadow

and the weird consistencies

of digits in this Virtuous

World.

Matter and Ethos,

Eros and Blue

smeared across stations of

moisture-insulated

cloud cover.

And you, still,

snapshot and florid,

stranger at hand,

next to the dolls

you both collected.

My Lady of Greatness,

Great-Grandmother of everything.

I pray, I stay, I pray.

I wait, I wait.

I want. And everything

is Given.