The Frizz Of My Hair

There has been

a maple syrup rain in my dreams

a downpour of sweet premises

a thick and sticky bane

I am soaked by the night,

but my day is dry

with dissertations and speeches

Applause is due me

but I sob in the morning dew

I try to never sleep, but

I see a baby in her arms.

She loves him as do I, and

he drowns in maple syrup rain.

I proclaim the sweetness of the faith

that all must obey, but

he has been my lover

a rebel

her baby

my baby

a blasphemer.

He’s been executed for

the sweetness of the faith.

I am soaked in downpours of blood

frazzled by the night and

I scream

cut like a maple tree

used and drained for sweetness

