Deep Cuts

The wild burning
through your eyes grasps
at hilts of butcher’s knives.

Ticking whetstone tongue
sharpens silver ribbons

razor-wire words.

Worn nails, jagged martyrs
in this slipshod romance–
serrated blades keen to jump.

I have to cut deep to find
my happiness. Whereas
you find yours here

inflicting these deep cuts.
Quail Bell Magazine – April 2017