The House of Flora

"I've got that
'Same sort
Of passion,'"

She says.

In the sick-house,
They told me passion was
The poison of our
Humanity.

I wasn't ready to accept it.
So I looked for all the

Psalms and Proverbs
To
Correct it.

But it just kept
Rolling
Down

The

Slick face
Of my
Window
Pane:

The vibrancy
Of my
Storm cloud:

As
Thorough
As
Seattle
Rain.

She says they play the tambourine for her
Because she made her dreams come true.

I sacrificed my
Passion
For
Superstition
And a
Church pew.