The Birth of Venus, flesh
wan as fading flashlight bulbs,
searching the measures
of my pallid walls.

And outside: spectral streetlights -


by the blurs of my vision; fading
nude and anemic as Venus.

And the ashen stepping stones
and the lurid lullaby echoes from
the slanted sparrow on the sidewalk;
whistle at my waxen regard and
twitch the muscles at my spine.