Cy Twombly, "Night Watch"

As gestures to beckon geometry's end

I post letters to my lost Mayan sisters,   

solicit layers sussed from layers to test

history, push past parallel. Mystery

becomes you, Mother, as does the lust the rest

of us suffer, lust you must once have induced.

What perceptions I trust defy perspective.

I take my troubles scribbled, not erased.