If I pierce golden veins
and find sinew instead,
Who will I bring pain to?
Is the needle made of creation’s thread?
The crimson blood will render apples sweet,
Does sin steer my feet upon this weary path?
Or did the serpent sow seeds of temptation in me
Where salvation’s breeze finds not its gentle swath?
Do you ask the stars to bend their knees in worship too?
Or only creatures of flesh and blood, fair and true?
What will you earn from my servitude?
When your wrath can strip flesh and bend me to rue?
You have no flaw, your capillaries are lightning,
You fold time into your robes, jewels welded from galaxies.
Did you stitch flaw into us, sins in the ripping?
If fate kisses your rings, why do we bear the festering maladies?
Is paradise your cage and fear the sword you sheath?
I am a lamb to you like a lamb is to me on a plate adorned.
Can I reach the abyss of your face and peel it off with my teeth?
Will your poison pool in my lips? Will I find time polishing your horns?
Let this flesh become the cosmos.
But who could be you? Could it be the beast I am, newly formed?
Yet the beast would be kinder, less cruel at the most.
I will assume your throne, I will break your crown