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 o'er emerald fire
The wife with soul of snow
With steady hand 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."