rose, fox, serpent, stars

Langston, dear heart, I need you to know: I would wield that knife with the precision of a surgeon the skill of an architect the grace of a dancer the love of a new mother. but no matter how often I excise those worms from the tender flesh of the world beneath (waiting, ripe to be cherished waiting, like us) they return, and return, and return.

but I will sharpen the knife and I will not stop. I will wield it again, and again, and again with the determination of a poet.