In my house at midnight’s rest

Star hands creep close and murmur praise,

A silken bird crawls through the shattered eye 

The dove peruses my wilting walls, which leave a yellow dream for human spirit,

Past aching cradle and screaming bough, 

The moony voice sharpens his teeth and grinds in sleep

For over firs and oaks my father sits as a martyr 

And my mother cries for death or respite 

Past lovely arms of broken bodies, 

and fabrics of new days (new lives),

We haze an overzealous song for cries of further pride

And with the careful touch over glasses of wine,

With their musk and stinking depth, 

The couple dance in their drunken stupor.

And past melting gold in shoes of sweet leather,

Past urban legends in midst of silk,

Risks soft exchange and stormy weather,

An ancient city,

Some careful king