Foundling
"Renunciation... is a piercing virtue."
Emily Dickinson
But to be the one renounced
In name of virtue--that's a bad joke,
A taste in the mouth like last night's garlic.
Sweat it out. Comes the pain without the honor,
Like the martyr soldier's horse!
Insult to fibers moral and connective--
Do I shame you? So I do. --
Contamination borne in the blood.
Your secret's showing, not to be
Spoken. Hushed, refused, this applecart
Upsetter, homewerecker, mark of sin.
The hills above the city are scarred with infants' bones.
No comments:
Post a Comment