I Will Guide Thy Hand

Violation

Wildflowered up the dreams of my captors,

Decorous men, half-moon bedded in my bloodstream.

The object is without objection. It was said

Such knowledge sharpened the Garden’s blurred shush.

The serpent also whispered in the field.

Abandon, the house of the lord, is

Abandoned. Its painted columns leer behind my heels.

The yellow apples underfoot, the flies they waste.

I am entering the wood.

The goat goes with.

A panic trills, and though the trees throw their limbs

I have no stupefaction for that flute.

I have poured salt in and already set fire to the cloth.