Justine

Talk like that she maintains, and you'll make me kill, there won't be a refrain, powdered lightly skin toned, no shadow of light resists, fragranced by cold tar soap, she doesn't insist or feign, twelve days the question twists, epiphany go mad or remain, betrayers by her every 'fone, worst of all the Sisters, smiling like dogs with bones, a courtesan who catches trains, her suburban life a whip, leaves will block the drains, ships can't unfurl sail, nor poets chant their lists, until her storm abates, she worries about the kids.