The Letters

With quill and silver knife
She carved a poison pen
Wrote to her lovers wife:
«your husbands seed has fed my flesh».
As if a lepers face
That tainted letter graced
The wife with choke-stone throat
Ran to the day with tear-blind eyes.
Impaled on nails of ice
And raked with emerald fire
The wife with soul of snow
With steady hands begins to write:
«im still, I need no life
To serve on boys and men
Whats mine was yours is dead
I take my leave of mortal flesh»