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The Sacrifice 

They brought salt
And it was not enough
They brought the knife
The bowl
The child of a miner
And it was not enough
There were angels
And seraphim
And cherubim
There was me
And there were
Old, old men with
Marks on
Their foreheads like
Blossoms saying
I have known sun
Grown young under
My years and before them
It was not enough
The songs were too little
And the feast was too soft
The day was bright
Enough to be a blinding
And so it was night instead
And it was
I walked out
Offered my cheese
My children
The milk of my one goat
Took off my clothes
Offered the collarbone
Offered the
Tiniest section of
The belly
With that and the
Dawn behind me
It was more
Than had ever
Been needed

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Sophie Strand.


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