Ces Jupes

Does anything die in spring?
When hoarfrost's half-life
teases our love for sidereal
things

At the archway Gallus,
There, where Poppae's
Skirt shifts like a hied
Nimbus

To vapor it goes,
Mists of lust and earth,
Love strangled in its
throes

At the archway, Gallus,
Let the skirts trail,
Tongues of Erinyes lashing
continuous

Set the Ram's testes
And the poison
In her dove-like hands.
Quirites!