Blood Shed

(a gen-x sonnet)

Blood shed, shed grace, so there is grace in blood,
Wet finger then, and smear your cross on me.
With face on marbled sill, in prostrate mud
I lie, your wanton supplicant to be.
When hate is love and love is iron hate
Impassioned pray this love-hate love to cease.
When life with thousand wounds seems sealed fate,
Then death by thousand cuts seems bless’d release.
A single uttered word to bring new day,
A single smiled note to shed new light.
A single darken look tears soul away
A single leveled blow turns day to night.
  On knees, at feet, I offer naked heart.
  For bind or open wound, finish or start