The strawberry heart,
Thrice pierced by shadowbox pins,
Fettered by knotted hair and scarlet thread,
Spills forth sublime nectar.
An army of ants,
In perfect marching order,
Collects it in due time;
A bounty for their sovereign.
An assortment of crows perch on the back of the throne,
Blue-black starless midnight shining in perfectly placed feathers,
Over the king of three rosaries,
Slumped in his seat.
A febrile autophage eternally.