I was willing to forget treachery,
Contented with a game I played one night,
Til a rumor reached me of your anger
At the way I mocked you a summer past.
Did you become a sparrow, wounded so
By cruel words that your voice was torn away?
Remember your complaint, made without cloth,
Remember your impiety, your error.
Do you ever struggle with a shoelace?
You do so with hands I left on your wrists.
Do you trip upon stones hidden in fields?
You do so with feet left on your ankles.
Had I but wished it, you could have suffered,
The lips you pressed on my love thrown to dirt,
Your body (no fingers, no toes, no tongue)
Leaving its blood on the grave of your father,
Lying lashed to stone with a rope of your own hair
As you gasped out your last breaths, rats at your eyes.
When you contrive to lay with a goddess,
Consider the enemy you will earn.
You left with only a few bruised emotions.
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