2016: edomites on vigil - aquarian age soundtracks

you're so sterile

you're so sterile, stare at the screen
grafted onto the death machine
its accumulator spewing
symbols of an unknown doing

somewhere in the sundry lands
sigils traced with shaking hands
transmitted to your braided hair
the tantalizing scent of perfume

you are so sterile, with your eyes
affixed to tangled cross-wires, likewise
the unknown mirror-scent bewitches
you into a state of knotted bliss

with eager eyes perusing lists--
formed long ago by alchemists
and open arms and open lips--
to all of those chiastic gifts