Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Twenty-seven
Winter 2011
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Sacrifice
Kim Noriega

I was something, maybe
you didn’t want
to lose; something, maybe
you thought you never
would, all those nights

while the birds sang
in the sycamore trees
beside our window;
while we whispered beneath
the covers in your twin bed:

brother to sister;
lover to lover.

You said,
this bone in my thigh—
is it not your bone?

this blood, cooling in my veins—
has it not been
the pulse at your throat?


I was someone, maybe
you thought you could afford
to lose; someone, maybe
you didn’t want
to love,

but love, my love—

I remember that last night,
how you fell,
how you split yourself in two
on the jagged edge of desire,

how I burned, willingly,
in your crucible’s cold blue flame,
how I let you fill your needle
with the milk of me.
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