At the End of Hell

So what if I love him,

The one they call bad,

The one they call black,

The one with the gap

In his teeth only I get

To see. What if I risk

Taking the head of death

Here in the dark, far

And deep, where

Burrowing beasts build

House after filthy house,

And nobody witnesses

My underworld gangster

Play kidnap, play Mama’s

Baby turned queen, and

If I scream, Pastel—he

Swears he’s sorry, unties

My feet. What if that’s

Worth a few bruises

Better than the light

Called spring, and I love

It, every drop of God

Weeping over me.