Pale Mary, full of grace
ash night of the urban sky.
There’s a whisp against you,
white as children's hush.
I seek the well of grace, mother.
My love has spilled, holy, and red.
I’ve come for my stillness.
I’ve come with this stumbling vesper,
in my night cotton,
to the ministry of the atmosphere
to pray alone.
Pale Mary, full of grace,
a tail and tongue across you,
a dragon in the breath of the censer.
I seek the word of the lost, mother.
The hymn of the hollow.
I’ve come for my wholeness,
to the alter of the stars,
those sacred hearts, burning alone
in silence and chaos,