At seventeen I heard my calling
to suffocate with my embrace
murder ten to save a hundred
drown the whole world in my faith

From a long line I descended
immaculate, an empty womb
and the spur is desperation
maybe God is desperate, too

In watermarks and lonely places
a private measurement of time
in made-up names and blacked-out faces
I will trace my blood line


Splendido. Consigliato.