a sample

And how sweet it is to subtly

fade

and from behind the scenes

scent the warmth

of the unaffected, undirected, unassuming

And how warm it is to forget

me

and blended with the wall

pen in hand

watch the kindling flames of my living kindred

And how many years to gently

break

and gentlier remake

paper ties

those first-born, pre-forged—into this bond of

(burdened, burnished)

death and life—how

full of burning glory and

sweet-brimming mercy

love, God; enough,

Enough! for

the world

and you pour

a sample into

my own, poor, withered, sullen,

heart. It beats. And what--

Did I say—did I say---O!

I told you it was worthless, this love

that it was wasted on worms

that you should take it

and bleed on another's grave

to make them clean

and thus, succinctly, effectively

spurned

my birthright

Did I say—did I step—O!
With my unholy shod feet

on your ravaged dead body

to pretend it never happened

that I was not responsible,

and therefore could not profit

like the rest

of the world

Because, naturally, you did it for love alone

There was no obligation. Did I sin?

Well, I can't help that. Don't love me, then.

Didn't I tell you they tortured me?

Aren't you to blame for that?

Or isn't that to blame for everything?

Didn't I tell you--

that I was not responsible,

and therefore could not profit

like the rest

of the world

Did I—Did I say—O.

You hold that foot of mine

Like Jacob, like Achilles

So that when I turn away (perpetually, invariably)

I twist and spin

Back to you at the zenith of tension

With a dislocated hip

and untold blessing