He slit my throat.
Scarlet mixed with some southern blue
Trickle down upon my neck of a
I see you
Making me leave me
In an un-manifested non-material space
Of an absent presence
Like the sky above the mountains
That comes to me in dilated scents;
I’ve learned conjuring.
It is a dark art to enjoy a gash
And wear it like a necklace,
If that is poetry?