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Worthy To Be Slain

Like a taste of honey,
the summer’s lake
winking at me,
you appeared to me.
You began
as elementary school,
middle school,
high school,
you began as a coquettish look
emanating from a book;
you began as a girl smiling and laughing
in high school and college;
you winked at me, flirted with me,
wearing the dress of knowledge…

Encompassing alike ebb and flow,
you appeared sometimes, sometimes withdrew.
You sometimes caught sight of the scholar’s glow,
his eyes traveling across
the ocean waves and landscapes of that dress.
Your own eyes lost their coquettishness,
night and silence steeping you in seriousness…
You began looking on me as a woman
of stunning beauty, who sifts the chaff from grain,
the prospective lover turning her eyes
to the strong and worthy one again and again…
The stunning lover-to-be sifting chaff from grain
now offered her depths to me;
I proved worthy enough to be slain.

You brought me to a space
where you were me, utterly alone,
where you wore a necklace of bone,
my memories of the beloved dead,
memories of all that I had learned….
You brought me to a space in the heart
where ice and fire couldn’t stand apart,
where the noble nurse and perverse were one,
where there glowed no particular way,
where no distinctions held sway…
What thundered within the spirit of your face
was life and death in their acutest embrace.
You had sifted the chaff from grain;
for whatever reason you saw me fit
and worthy to be slain.

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