The Link I

I can stare at you full-face 
foul thing - I have been in, 
it is familiar, holds no

terror for me now.  You bent
my soul; made me burn on
my own pyre like ore - I

endured that fire, know how
blood boils.  Such a
bastard child dripped from me

as I never thought to see - some
unformed thing lumpy and trying.
So smile: such diseased fostering

cannot be re-plumbed, re-welded,
re-forged the way it was all bits
intact and neatly-linked before its

furnace.  Oh the black glinting
eyes of  .D..E. fondeur .D..E.  and  .D..E. forgeron .D..E.  held
no mercy for me.  They stoked the thing

high, sprayed fuel, bellows going like the
clappers whipping air into fiery
streams that burned my insides.

Hot needles those tongues that's what
it felt like.  Ah your dark arms are
wide, they offer me oblivion and couple

me to your dark shadow.  I would be
confined within the shades of your black
cloak, your cold tongue forcing its way

down my throat.  I think not.  If it
comes to a choice between fire or water
I will take the former not the latter.

previous poem