And your messages

read, They are starving us, or, They have cut off my ears, or, They have pierced my eyes, or, They have cut off my hands. And you wanted to cut off my hands. You told me the gangrene would set. And I was the woman who fingered her necklace, having admitted to having a dream. Then you cut off my hands and told me I couldn’t vote for democracy. You said, Go to the olive tree. But I’d cut off my hands just to touch you. Shut my eyes with dull wire. Tear out my heart so you’d know how I feel. Because this is too big. You see it too clearly. This is too big. God refused to save me. And when I steamed off the stamp, I found your hidden messages. And your messages read, They have plucked out my teeth, or, They have cut out my tongue, or They cut off my cuffs and gave me a system. But your words were like blinds. So I asked you, Why I should love this body? And you said, Because it is lordly. And I said, Should I prove false or weaken in my determination, may the soldiers of the Pope cut off my hands and feet. So I cut off my hands and held them away and you said, Pull my hands and make them yours. So I pushed my dead hands against your dead chest in hopes that I could serve you. Trains slammed into one another. I tried to pull you out of the ditch, but the head is always the longest journey. My body is still forming. My hands are still haunting. And when you gagged my mouth, I sang through the holes of my eyes. I am yours only in the dark. And you cut off my hands, sealed my ears with wax, sewed my mouth closed, and made my cords two twisted voids. Toilet bowl finger tuck voice box chain-gang. I am sorry for your infatuation. I am sorry that you failed at the jail. I am sorry that you carve the infinite shit. After all, the lost orchid isn’t worth anything. So cut off my hands, rational man, and hang me from the gibbet upside-down. The sky is all blown like a scrap of paper. Because this is too big. And I don’t care if it is the next big thing.