A Martyr's Game

And if there is a hunter among us

Tilting arrows, tapping blades

I will go where there are meadows

I will crouch in sun-stroked glades

And if surrender reaps the wound,

One engraved and one fell cut

I will gnaw the seams and snip the wires

And pull the gauze from out my gut

And if mercy yields to yellow might

Who be the first to cast the stone

Patient fury knows no simmer

The sharpest knives won’t take to bone.

Be not gentle, here I lie

Carve with care, my stone-struck eye

Tear with ease, take all you will

And spare the next that you would kill.