Saint Cecilia Bought Me a Dream

Saint Cecilia Bought Me a Dream

That boy from Detroit
was a penny a candle.
She bound us in her palm,
kept us all hungry
in her beehive basket.
"Come sip from my cup,
pretty babies;
I've mixed us all up a vision.
Don't run from revelation,
pretty babies,
little flowers often wilt under circumstance."
And we lied so well
down together,
where the disjointed gather.
St. Cecilia wore a pale green dress
and whispered lovely smoke.
"Sing us up a dirge, pretty baby,
one ready made
for the necessary world.
One special made for me."
She left a message
in blood red sugar,
so the swarm need not understand.
"Keep your poisons in the honeycomb."
Kiss her one time,
before the cup spills.
Give her a moment,
before she fades.