Her beads hang on my wall
Like a Christ limp with death,
Her smile claimed now
By bones enshrined by uncaring stone.
I will breathe this anger.
I will not wrap my fury
In trite consolations.
Death claim me, but I am unbowed.
I will not forgive.
I will not robe you in religion
To conceal the stench of your corrupted aims.
Nor reduce you to simple villainy.
No, I will call you by your name:
The taker of youth,
The cancer of every beauty,
The crusher of every hope,
The last word of every vain oratory,
The final laughter
That enshrouds all living things.
But know this: When I last close my eyes,
I will hate you for taking her.