anthropomancy (poem)
god, was this all for nothing?
the bathroom becomes a slaughterhouse
in the holy kind of way.
silver glistening red in the candlelight
& a razor blade for a butcher knife.
wound incised, i reach into my stomach,
fish out my liver.
leave the heart, all it ever does is lie.
slippery & new like a birth in my
trembling hands but looming like a
death – i'm elbow deep in
the not knowing but don’t
have the guts to ask
what i must. but i must,
i must.
god, do i make it out of this one unscathed?
do i become the sacrificial deer in the last moments?
god, tell me, was this all for something?
god, was this all for nothing?
what have i done?
what have i done?
what have i done?