By Benjamin Beik

In this case here place her heart:
It may quiver, it may bleed, it may
Smell of marzipan and scream for revenge,
But in this it must be placed,
Run through.

I will have no excuses.
Sharpen well your hunting knife,
Kiss it and on your tongue, on your chest,
On your palms, on your cheeks,
On your eyelids test its edge.

May you be guarded by Diana, may you be guarded by
Her dogs and yours,
Her dreams and yours. 

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