once there was a little black cat,
who'd supped on little white lies,
a lie's the dream of fallible flesh,
that made her powerful and wise.

tecpatl, tecpatl, they cried in hoarse throats,
won't you show me the shape of tomorrow?
indulgence in passion would be their garrote,
as nightmare drowned them in sorrow

in queenly repose through through wood slid her shadow
each tread a warning and a fable
they said deer would not graze where omei's feet once touched
nor birds, foxes, or voles if they were able

for her dreams were a gift the way a sword is a pen
the way a man is a book filled with red
the nightmare, they named her, in times now long past
madness and mania her friend

it took but a word for omei to kill
but her favorite way was the whip
i'd once watched her hang a man on moonlight's strands
and lash him til his flesh was stripped

sometimes she'd spear you with silv'ry beams of light
or hurl you into the stones
but the worst thing omei did to a vessel
could cut them far deeper than bone

omei, O omei, who is left to sing your name?
have we naught but these chromatic priests?
do you think they'd weep tears of hot shame
if they knew who you were 'fore you deceased?

they called you their queen, they garbed you in jewels
i saw the bright light of your throne
not one of your sprightly-eyed children could guess
just how much blood lay under the stone

history's a sheet made of fine hammered gold,
handsome but ill-holding form,
LOPAIA is left nothing but shreds
of the monster you were when you were born

your children may remember the imago's eyes,
but once they lived in my head
and thus from my tattered memory may the JACKAL prise,
the black cat whose name once meant DREAD.

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 1st of Severin, in the year 13 AC.