if i had my way
there would be no more music.
no misconstrued, heart born
mathematics of need

i’d place you
just you
in that window
like a candle to say

this is a safe place
not predictable
but a place
where you will not be broken

until the music ends
and the harsh lights
expose the flaws,
and tracts

trampled in the mosh pit:
“The Sisters of The Sacred Cross invite you
to an evening
of quiet contemplation.”