(Love to Kill)

Linked to you all by
love and light,
spread thin,
       (while most anticipate spread leg), but
MaBelle is only a voice.
Ten fingers,
(one for each ring-)
each promise to breathe and to sing,
                   to laugh and to lose,
holding out for my humble pie,
watchful eye,
        melodic muse,
           mis-interpreted mother.
(Expectant only in
eagerness to engorge the erudite apostle's
explanation of self.)
Heart song zings- strings
anchor ankle to ankle
the convert and the coveted.
Influence is enough of a (gift) for our
malevolent Moll, to
send the sands surging into the wind,
                to scatter, and
all the while
shading from the sacrificial sun.
Got love to kill.
(Thru-traffic keeps me still.)
Sing me to sleep, it's a
beautiful lie on a tragically vibrant day.
Apple slices sweeten the tongue that
whispers whistles in a dark alley.