Preparation
Grinding to a hilt
the knife is sharp
again you cleanse
with yarrow
from your hip
you bite willow bark
into thirds and brush
your skin with bottle
liquid absent of all
but brave spirits
and you feel watched
over by the so-called
yenta aunts who
whispered you to sleep
when you were small
and you hope
your sallow body
will not vibrate to the sound
of the funeral dirge.
No more stalling.
Let us begin.
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