Martha be real
come away from the pages
away from the ink
black as spiders in love
turn your eyelashes down
be a girl again Martha
twirl your hair around your finger
put your white slippers on
come to me Martha
on a night in the summer
tell me why cider
tastes so much like love
wear your rain-colored dress
and walk your black tigers
and tell me why canaries
still sing in the coal mine
Martha be real
come lace or come leather
tell me a story
without star-spangled lies
turn your eyelashes down
be a girl again Martha
come away from the pages
and rose-colored ashes.