A congregation of maidens gather
in ancient wetlands.
They stand exposed
under soaked nightgowns.

Like cicadas they awaken,
shed their skins, and scream.
They know not their purpose,
but understand the agony of breathing.

They journey their whole lives
with only carnal instinct
to this condemned marsh.
A quagmire of primordial fluids, staining humors, and foul miasma.

Aggressive weeds tear at their...