In that sunken city

Mired in rape and rapacity

Our castle shone

Like a silver lining

Bequeathed to generations

Of unassaulted daughters


We wore that lack of subversion

Like talisman

on wrinkled fingers

Passed it on like heirlooms:

Tiny keys

Frolicking in ungroped bosoms

Our keyholes deflowered

Only by marital consummation;

Sets of china


With lips set on their brinks only consensually;

Printed handkerchiefs

Unsoaked by tears

Emanating from reminiscent horrors

Of naked backs pressed against whitewashed walls;

Bed linen


By the aroma of forced encounters;


Of safekeeping and protection,

All graciously answered



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