Bedraggled angels blethered
Across Eleven Acres

As belling from the bwoneyard
A-rangled round the archet

The scarlet sky a-warning
As wailing from the kitchen

From baby gurrel dread-fulled
Lone-left on a breadboard

This not-girl growed to sarching
For the other half of something

And waded Riddle river
With hummock-bones and tree-tears

Her fingernails a-ripped
From hauling clay-filled fists

Out of the Riddle's edges
For pots with happy voicеs

Waxen crundels croaking
For The Lamb alrеady taken

And lost beloved brother
Once thickest inkle weaver

Conzum-ed with twanketen
That's only eased by scratching

Wisp-words slim as thistles
Or a sickly chicken's whistles

Till in the vaulted barn
Queer-lit by dummet zun

She knew herself a vessel
Fit for a different wordle

Where footsteps must be Iwone
And barefoot upon stones

And the northwind's ever-host
Gives edges to the ghosts