Endlessly, satisfying upward-climbing spiral staircase
Twisting and turning, the clockwork wind-up doll plans rebellion
Hisui, Kohaku and Meno Shina
Insist upon limp, inorganic wings of mermaids
And glass scales of angels.
They seem to be waiting only in the sea of cellophane where the dugong sleep
In the beautiful, richly coloured nightmare,
they throw the music box with the broken black lock
Into the attic and let the sin drop onto the white soles of the feet
Of the boy who is mesmerized by the forbidden game of hard mystomania.
He couches down.
They cruelly carve out his sick, sharp, opaque thorn