Mi Espada

You at the end of my sword
as it was meant to be,

raw daylight
can be so powerful

like an awakening tool.
Night with its atoning sheath

and innate brickness
has sealed us in.

Blood of the thighs
and sweet alarming,

blood of the swan neck,
tune to the lion.

I pull out the sword,
let the words strike back,

both of us wounded
as thrust.