In the dictionary of victims
there’s no space
for a hair to fall

Chance
wresting crumbs of freedom
from necessity

Future frothing with mirth
mingling
milk and blood

Always—an altar
and always—
a lamb

Always someone
leading the lamb
to the altar

Always—hands
clasped together
that say: I’m bound

Always—fingers
testing the point
the blade

as if pausing
to question
the mechanisms of exchange:

that all suffering’s
for the greater good

that all wrongs are redeemed
in the afterlife

that through love
the world is restored, renewed

when it plunges into a cleansing
frenzy of violence