Dear Sir(s)

I was blue in the nightfall. My female structure
Sapphire, wrapped it its reliquary stillness.

This, your peacock gear, has conducted me.
Through the Craglands, has ridden me.

This, a coven of pillbugs
Is what you bestow. You gave me heat,

Little room.

My skin of night.
Thickly worn,

How rent
And graceful your hand,

The alchemies of cull
And rictus—

Deliver me.

I have known the legions, Sir,
Of your face, tenebrous many
Heads have laid upon this length

With heft and despite it
All, you can go now.

—Stephanie Rose Adams