Ethan Paquin: Muse Has Lost Her Lustre

                                    She'll still sleep with me, so that's not it -
the tin-like bark of that nameless tree did it. It was more
    spectacular than her face, than swirling ribbons in a gaggle
            of daughters, than the face of a possible affair-girl
   which floated off into death-state
gently    as when rocks are born