Wow. This is powerful

Where the Wound Lies

BY ANGELA DE HOYOS

because I go
        like the professed
              sinner repentant
to the altar
of your baptismal flame
        I am saved

despite your
                    sculptor-love
whose whimsy kneads
                                      and molds
                                      and fires
then breaks
the free-form
of my fasting body
                                      to make
                                      me whole
yet thankful
I accept
              these carnal gifts
              of you
                            Eros
and wear them
as I would
flawless jewels

              (how can you
                know that I
                have bled
                the way
                and back
                biting the dust
                to wear
                your name?)

. . . the wound lies
                                         not
in your infliction
        but in my
               expectations . . .