Evelyn murmurs the rhymes that she's written In dark desert canyons; melodious stars Assemble themselves into great constellations Suspending her ten million sandstone hewn stairs; Evelyn lingers on L's that illumine Veins of dark gold streaking light-metered hair.
Evelyn murmurs the names that are written In washable ink on her winter-pale hands; Rinsing herself in cold streams from the mountain Cut deep through the canyons, she shivers and hunts On hands and scraped knees for a stone that is shaped in The name that she wants.
Evelyn summons the reams that she's written And folded away into sharp-angled birds; Uncreasing the seams reads the letters she's wedded, With scissors excises the best and she burns Wings of pale smoke, whitened Words' hollow bones.