me and the swords / stood pillaring in the swamp
a horde of deadly sharps /& a barefoot walk / could not
free any bondage / these ties are voluntary / to be a hero
to be a martyr / reflected off every blade / this is
my initiation / not my prison / not my coming out of hiding
I look like myself when my eyes are left out / bestirred
like darkness / that examines what is human and what is
quiet disaster / I was caught seducing / caught menacing
every tragic factory / where memory is designed
to betray the kindest ghosts / to become a host of
holy sanctions / and this is the law / so be it so be it