O Loss, my headway is not prostrate,
nor are my extravaganzas hardwired;
I do not burke myself with grassy matriarchies
or thespians too marmoreal for me
No; I style myself, I accessorize myself lovelorn,
as a warped chieftain cleaning his moss.
O Isinglass, load for the Loss
now and evermore.
(psalm)131 + (s+7)