excessively

Tell me the story

Of my people, your ancestors

Speak their truths

And let me run my hands over their smooth stones

Tell me talk and teach

Worrying wanted wanton souls

Weary, they are

Sing me a song, tell me your story

Whisper it

Dainty and droll

Wing me a wonder and whisk me away

Take it, take my wanton soul

Sacrifice on your altar

Let the smoke rise, a faint gift for the missing prayers

Wing me wantonly, wind my soul

Ratchet me up in a tree

Sing me a song of yearning

Wearily, wretchedly, lurching along this path

An ogre, an eyeball, a humped back.

Five hairs sprouting on the roof of her head

Six rolls wiggling, neck to knee indeed

Six spoons spitting sugar and candy and weed

Six strings singing

Lost in the sound the light from above

Six maids a milking, as they always were

A particular sound

Brief the potter, prepare the store

Brief the messenger, tell her more

Set siege to the city

From the tombs down below

Sing the sweet city to sleep

Sing the sweet city

Sleep