Bend me, send me,
Seeded, then spent.
Ever wretched, ever free.
Her mettled smell tells me well
The steel-fed hell she sells.

She'll never regret her sentence--
She's better when she's been rejected.
The present tense melts, peels.
We were perfect then.
We yet remember.
She'll never let me be.

She'd been settled,
Even the seven deeds cleft,
When her effervescent scent
Sheened her new decrees,
Reeled deferred pretenses,
Stretched her well-versed eden's flesh.

She felt her wet sex-self remember
When her reckless needles
Shredded me, fettered, then bled me.

The Empress repents her temper
When we went there,
When we were we.

Where were we then?
Were we well?
Were we new?

Her sweet September presence
Extended me, sheltered me,
Erected, melted and fed me.

We felt new senses when
These fervent fleshes entered her
Then, gentle, kneeded her essence,
Her secret, tempered vespers.    

She kept the embers,
Fed these seekers,
Centers, senders, spells.

Even when we were
Her deepest secret
She needed me.
She'll never tell.

Even when she seeps red,
Weeps herself green,
Then sweeps herself
Between peeled sheets,
She'll remember her fences.

These self-defenses
Elected, then deflected me.

She sees the cement trees
She bred me, then flees,
Her tempered senses berthed
When she eschews
Her perverted, feeble tenement.

Yes, her eyes wrestled me.
They represented her well.
They keep me here, shelved.

We'll never see the rest.
She trembles, then fetches seeds,
Sews her pebbles, swells.
Freezes endless blessed vessels.

She descended here.
The verse ends here.

The end.