guilt ordains the brightest stars

you wish you were, you wish you were

mauve and strawberry blue

eyes, generally forbidden,

pry into the attentions of scant keyholes

damp with grey-morning dew

the least trumps, a castle of cards

wish found in the eloquent curve

of the wing, the fragile

antenna

the highest clumps, the bestial

trumps alight on the mossy sill;

frost for fancy, but clear adieu

wherever it finds so plentiful bound

these are

strange stories.