She Gave Me the Kiss
She gave me the kiss
of death on the forehead,
just between the eyes,
and thus
I can see everything
and nothing
as I walk
through life
with three swords
stuck through my heart.
Each time I pull one
out, to protect myself,
blood gushes
to the ground
until it’s too much
to bear and I must slide
the sword back in
until I am swathed, safe,
merely suffering.
As if anyone could ever plug
such a deep hole,
dressed up as a cup,
handed down the bloodlines
through rites
of love, perverted.