Before the Inquisition
Revoke me as the prisoner of your heart
I have paced finitude
From wall to wall, and cannot find
The empty space
Through which electrons crawl
To post the graffitti of their freedom.
I want no parole
Exonerate me from the conviction
Of your desire
It is my gender for which I am accused
A stereotypical blame
Beside the innocense of my name.
In silence I bear
The stain against my honor
And love her more
Who spilled it there.
For it is this love
That shall be no spectator's sport
That a man is command to love
His wife, and risk his life
Until she be healed
Shall be yielded
Healing him
And still spontaneous as my dream
When since our youth
We bask in the flame of our hearts
Cupping our hands to shield the wick
Now cold
In the frozen knuckles wet with sleet.
Release me by acquital with the truth
Gender only look like alike
But there is a finer distinction
To be made by faith
And its different sensibility
For culture is absolute
Then choice
Is nothing more than a dance of masquerade
And I am no I
For there is no distinction
No boundary defining the mass
Indifferentialable
Despite the splintering bang.
No, set me apart
As individual before the inquisition of your court
My heart recants nothing
My love is my love as my love will be.
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