The morning I was born, so they tell me, I nearly died.
But birth made a murderer of me.
I killed whatever it was tried to kill me.
There have been many close calls, but I’ve been killing
in self defense, ever since.
I’ve killed connections which would have decapitated
what ever I would be,
Mother, twisting me through her fire walking tests.
Father, with his expectations of his duplication.
Certain certainties of faith.
Multiple gallows, built to hang some part of me.
Each structure executed.
Until I found firm foundation inside of me on which to
I found the one person who, most fully herself,
needed no self translating interlinear version of me,
stood strong beside me so I no longer needed my knife.
My wife and I,
each loving each,
are let go
to be together