Thorns, July 2000

2000 may0001

When his gold cross on a chain

swings back and forth over me

in bed, I feel thorns

pricking and drawing blood.

A loved one is praying

for a hedge of thorns between us.

Those invisible thorns

close in on me.

When I cried out, trapped in confusion

and guilt, I needed grace

to rescue me with its loving arms.

Instead law struck me in the face,

spat on me, and pressed

a crown of thorns into my flesh.

I don’t dare

ask anyone else for help.

My loved one seems to disapprove

of my engagement ring.

But only I have seen

the tiny thorn inside the center

stone, invisible

from the sparkling face,

yet black and sharp,

clear from a certain angle.

My diamond is deeply flawed,

just like me.

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