For Phileo

This passionate arm
this burnt and featherless wing
this discarded veil
streaming blood and salt water
down her back.

This uncovered
unholy
mouth these
godly undoings.

Her warriorhood
her faithless offering
her purity portioned out
among the deathless
clamoring dead and deadly
clamored living.

Phileo,
my own heart also—
cruel and shining
as the capricious smile
of a golden god.

-M.

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