Poetry

This attitude rattles 
me. Silence has― 
become very vocal. 
 
The body does not listen 
now. A knife 
has become celibate. 
 
The unsung hero was 
untainted and pure. 
It was the veil, which was corrupt. 
 
Are you ready for 
the hang? The wrists cut 
open were not bleeding. 
 
The jewel of the fire 
does not burn. Even the 
purple hemlock is very sweet.