from And We Are Far From Home
The Song of the Rapier
I was the needle, I made my way through.
I fastened linen, brocatelle, satin, together for you.
I was many, a beautiful swarm, but you saw few.
I gathered myself together. I, forged anew.
I was sharp in your daughter’s hand, a toy that flew
whistling at murder. You pined, while I sang true.
I was the wedge, I was the axe that hewed
fissure by fissure this deck from the trees that grew
whole, until they learned the idea of you.
I was skewer and blade. I was the span that knew
who wanted, who strove, who struggled to approach you.
Who fell back, bleeding, and what they were driven to do.
Now when you take me up, we are no longer two.
Like Love and Death, we extend one touch that wounds.