The Sacrifice

Blind eyes painted
silver for centuries,
all the glassy orbs who

don’t use sight, use up
more. We can’t relate
to any ancient method

of cleansing, like quartz
ground into antidotes
for hardened hearts out

of luck, needing fuel. Such
sacrifice, feeling beyond
what anyone’s eyes can

show us–Only our way:
don’t bring bodies, only ash
to pass to others, smear

around brow and mouth
without incantation, silent
homage to smoldered

fires we’ve formed…
But the sun erupts
without our help, anyway,

so he’ll light incense
and she still brings
the dagger to take out

any star that falters,
hoping to grind away, fall
out of love with you.


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