I hope this scalpel kiss
Tears open your half-healed wounds.
I hope the staunching fails you.
I hope you flow
Free
Into gutter of the knife,
Into a stuttered sanguine drizzle.

I hope it becomes
A red drip reminder
That 40 days and 40 nights
Of arcing arrows
Would bury you
Under shafts and feathers
Of birds that no longer soar,
Can no longer soar,
Because you tore them for the arrows
Volleyed at yourself.

I hope you bite this knife,
Cut your teeth on it,
Lacerate your hollow fangs
Til they leak a new and brighter poison,
Til you twitch in the mouth
And your tongue clamors
For the hot taste of your own
Rabbit fear gushed off your flustered heart.

I hope the fruit heart wedged
Between your aching teeth
Submits the tender marrow juice
You crave.