Come See Her.

Come see her, crucified by her loves.
The nightjars sing for her bloodied robes
And the owls hoot their despair.

Touch her hands, those broken wings,
Feel her feet, the open sores,
And, seeing the moon half undone,

Watch her eyes burn with the pain.
Hold her head, no thorns, but madness,
And kiss her lips that speak no words.