Trundled away,
Lurking,
Beneath our cushioned epiphanies,
Lies grace.
We need only
Swab the dust.
Inviting sad
And furious
Dreams to sleep,
We share stories
Wanton and cruel,
Desperate
For a glimpse of Polyhymnia.
Grace is no longer light,
But a bed ruffle
Shielding the unsightly
From the light of day.