Arranged

i, the caged animal

no point of light

what fear a man like you

brings upon me

poor little lamb

baptized in rivers beyond understanding

always the wound and

never the shining bride

sanctified in rivers of violence

lord, bless this union, for this girl is only fourteen and may our bloodguilt wash out (for we have killed and called it a wedding)

oh, you’re so ill repentant

there in your cage

Give me that good poison,

the kind that cuts,

make my blood ferrous

may god fill my lips with ash

I am the crone

I am the daughter

I am the wife

I will be no man’s blood sacrifice.