Saturday, September 18, 2010

Sister Scorpio

Sister Scorpio

Black as hate; white and bloodless
shrieking Fury
punishing Saint.
Your patient, erratic torture
has left me broken,
bleeding torrents of pain
unable to move
unable to sleep
or engage in 
polite discourse.
Yet you were never satisfied.
It was not me you wished to sacrifice.
I was merely inconvenient,
or too convenient.
Dressed in a goatsuit,
queued up to be driven to slaughter,
how could I expect compassion,
fellow feeling?
But it was the Executioner's blade
I expected,
not frenzied repetition of
back stabbings, epithets,
steel-wielding rage.

We could have been sisters,
giggling secrets in the schoolyard,
smoking pcp in the girls' room,
shooting up the classroom,
dying in each other's arms.

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