She Writes, still
She writes, still And the bull rages still; Till there is nothing to do but Pick up the pen and lame Nothing to do but Stab him again. Place tip beneath the breast Hook rib cage to pull bone from flesh; Pause. Then press eye to pain, Embrace each rung, then Stab him again. Drive the nib in deeper. Pierce sides with intrusive thoughts; Until thick, black words stain And hands reek- wound him Stab him again. Pull teeth. Form vowels from the Cut of his tongue; Taste the title Matador and lay claim To your Madonna: Stab him again. The crowd roars; the pen shrieks; The bull cries tears that you can’t explain Why you must slaughter him Why you must stab him Again. Again. Again -Again
