Let my mother conquer me, let her
carve me up, let her knit me to-
gether with black flies & egyptian
cotton. Let my mother conquer-

everyone, let her lead me through
the concrete-works, through the
ravages of the will, let everyone
kiss the palm of their own hand

as her image, flayed by white paint,
replaces the background of the
world. Let my mother conquer,
let her stand in the holy forest

of savage dolls as my sisters
walk amongst the trees scattering
dollar bills like penance to the
oracle of desire. Let my mother

conquer her life and lead it out,
the great horned beast, like
an apparition of compassion
or surrender, roaming the

public gardens of topeka. Let
my mother conquer the dead
or stand outside the department-
store of her life, as i stand

enshrined among the mannequins,
the nimbus of black flies &
pink dahlias encircling my sad face,
as she touches her hand to the glass.