A desire embalmed aches a dull migraine
Thinking on this, I imagine that day.
How she said if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry,
her bloat laugh, face-up floating misery.
She made life so to others and herself.
I was the poor temp; power was her wealth.
We crossed swords, paths, or rather I crossed her.
She was my guide, I tried without her fears.
I sank in the attempt; she got me fired.
She kept her life embalmed, her one desire.