The cella in the Erechtheion unsettling the rosettes father spat against the astragal, glazing the glazing bars rising through irregular patch and path marks his Cross of Lorraine, like keyed flowers from the peristyle 

father spat against the astragal, glazing the glazing bars I weep often for at night and take so neatly in my hands his Cross of Lorraine, like keyed flowers from the peristyle the fear of him moving as the silence within me

I weep often for at night and take so neatly in my hands rising through irregular patch and path marks the fear of him moving as the silence within me the cella in the Erechtheion unsettling the rosettes