When they said stand up
Three short breaths.
Felt the blood rush from my limbs as you spoke your name,
Each bruise on your thigh resembled a dying star.
And in the dorm she had something to show me
In the form of a scar in the palm of her hand,
And the burden was lain on our bodies
In patterns of flesh and poetry.
Draped in silk and feathers, poised in concourse,
Bring me drink and press it to my lips,
Give my bones as timber to the Wildwood.
Christ, we glowed alight.
You part the skin,
Touch the blade to my paw and invited it in,
Pursed your lips, kissed the wound,
Took the pain into your form
And with each new cut we cauterized our ties,
Closed the seam of younger days of our lives.
I made the mark in later days
Gazing bare into a fresher face
Thrashing into fevers' hollow state
Speak in tongues, you blamed my shaking kiss.
I am certain of this.