Lizzy Burnam 🐞

The art of cruelty is to feel the blade 
in your hand & in your heart at the same time. 
You know where hurt hides 
because you yourself bleed, have bled 
& carry the same book to the next town
to be received, again, in blood. 
You know exactly where to make that cut. 
You’ve heard—exactly—the scream. 
Write it in your zombie hand, over and over 
like a school kid’s punishment: 
I will not make crackers of men. 
I will not make crackers of men. 
I will not make crackers of me

… & on & on, 
til the chalk wears down to a knife edge,
til the oath itself becomes a weapon, 
a crossed heart, 
til you’re swept under the flow of it, 
eternal, like a flash flood 
from god & the ribbons of his strangest gifts.