Here the unsaid
Rests her weary head
Dropsy Titania
Tarnished blade sheathed
The hard mouth of discipline
Come down from the mountains
The muslin of her dress
Hung still dripping
Her fingers wreathed in silver
Blown glass suspending
Filaments of metal
As she would, pull from her mouth
Precious cavities filled with toxin
Permitting her wood-worked smile
And show you
What lies behind
This prettied veneer