My broom br with its tufts of roses br beckoning at the black, br with its crown of thistles, br prickling the sky, br with its carved crescents br winking silverly br at Diana, br with its thick brush br of peacock feathers br sweeping the night, br with its triangle br of glinting fur. br br I ride br over the roofs br of doom. br I ride br while he thinks me safe br in our bed. br My forehead br he thinks that scraggly br other broom, br my hips that staff, br my sex that stump br of blackthorn br & of twine.