The Letters

With quill and silver knife She carved a poison pen Wrote to her lover's wife: "your husband's seed has fed my flesh". As if a leper's face That tainted letter graced The wife with choke-stone throat Ran to the day with tear-blind eyes. Impaled on nails of ice And raked with emerald fire The wife with soul of snow With steady hands begins to write: "i'm still, I need no life To serve on boys and men What's mine was yours is dead I take my leave of mortal flesh"