Are you there Andromache? Are you
Gusting prayers in a windswept maze
Of a man? Or a graceful incision
In a harlot’s armour?
Is your murmur a mere hypnosis
Of filigree lesions? Or a tense
Desire to erase
The conundrum of almost-lives shattered
In pristine doses? Did you envision
That so many centuries hence
Bleeding petals of roses
Staining water
Would evoke your face?