The Bruised Reed - Anathallo

Are you a bruised reed?

A smoldering flax?

Are you a broken branch?

Oh, and do you love it?

Do you love to forget like I do?

One will sift as wheat

But one has come with robes

One will slice your ankle

Love, love, love

There are these sharp gold knives

In this space meant for affections

Where the pink skin baby once belonged

When I speak, «I cough them out

Gather them up in my arms

And swallow them back down