The HandflowerIn this night’s dark stain, come, lay beside me;
I will take you, man without a name, who turns his face away and bites my shoulder, who needs but cannot bear the bitter dregs. I will carry your weight, as every sister who wore the handflower became the bangle, learned to spread her bones and sink beneath the waves of each particular obsession. Curses follow me of those who fear my right and shudder to know the love I count in minutes of every hour, who spit their gall where I laugh. This flesh is mine, it has bled, and shed, like a snakeskin every unworthy touch and kept for itself, the taste of one kiss. |
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