The Bellbird Fancy

Her hand is most familiar with the cursive letters "please",
Tracing pens to tired blankness with the silent prayer of ink.
Her digits stained to black with begging simple ease out of disease;
To beg the hardness out of hardship without the thoughtfulness to think.

The russet pages of her pleading pile end upon antique;
A balustrade of benedictions pouring word on cambered word,
Until her implorations obviate the retinue she'd seek
And girdle heartache within heartache where once the bellbird fancy stirred.

The light is filtered through the verso, through the recto, to her skin,
To which the tincture of her orisons affix and crawl within.
Upon her muscle, bone and blood prowls the pollution of her mind
And marauds about the vault to which her maxim is resigned.