Glazed inside the mottled light that flies, that flings We are snowflakes, it is dark, it is time to become inedible, I am in the street, whorewench cracking off the cackling witchshell I refuse to remain myself I refuse to not be wholly virginal I tread water into a pure speckless dream From fiction-inspired truth to collective will Where I click my innocent flesh heels together (once for mummy (twice for daddy (three times a lady) and my bronze feet clang a gong and alone we start a revolution, three in a bed, and the stranded star blushes glittery red, and she hides the ruby in a nice white sheet 'til the cream is clotted 'til the vermouth is mottled 'til she's lascivious, stained, besotted beyond self-control, and throttled clinging to her hips she falls out of love, into Love, in Love with something greater than her own body. Then she wakes. She lifts her eyes. She ignores him, then, to her surprise. She's new. Drifting. Luminous. Goodmorning, Snowflake.