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