Free verse № 133391
Bread and blackthorns
Her feast on the shivering table
sickened me,
like swine on Moslem tongue.
The dew of grief
from sill of souls
sickened me,
like broken bread on Roman tongue.
Imprisoned from my ribs
my heart found love,
It sickened me
like Eve on Adams tongue.
Slice the loaf for wine.
Strip the stems of roses,
crown me with its blackthorns
and watch my scalp weep
for my eyes shall not.
I am not your sacrifice
Just the worst kind of Martyrâ¦..
Unremembered.
Alive.
Yet dead to only you.
10 comments
I'm sure you have an explanation why you used "from" rather than "in" or "by". I'll save you the trouble. It doesn't work.
HISTORY
Jennifer Michael Hecht
Even Eve, the only soul in all of time
to never have to wait for love,
must have leaned some sleepless nights
alone against the garden wall
and wailed, cold, stupified, and wild
and wished to trade-in all of Eden
to have but been a child.
In fact I gather that is why she leapt and fell from grace,
that she might have a story of herself to tell
in some other place.
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