Self-Recriminations
Blindly, I embed each razored word I speak, like dormant seeds, into the surrounding ground. Then wait, without surprise, for the vindictive vines to snake along my legs and spine stripping flesh from bone, like butchers applying their keen knives to the unvoiced tendons of the dead; until I wail long ululations of despair to the wind, as if my coy innocence had not vanished like breath into the icy air’s silence with the first soft words I spoke to you.
(from “Arcana, VIIIswords, February 27, 2014)











