Your piercing intelligence would undo or invigorate me
or both
But certainly pierce

And who am I to think that I know
what is best for myself
I know more what is best for the Plan and the Palace
and less what is best for the Path

So I linger at the end of your knife
and it comes down to the push and pull
of one fear or another

In the end it is the warmth of your skin that draws me in
through the blade
slicing home to the pressure in the bone

If you prove the statues can't hear us move together
I may stop apologizing for the blood on the marble