DOVE TAIL

Im not ashamed to claim the spear in my hand as my own,

at least i should not be ashamed.

I feel the burn from the wood,

and recognise the marks of different bark.

I have splinters.

and I have blood

and it tastes like blood

and it has the texture of blood.

I wont try to persuade you,

Im telling you as I know it - finally,

I am fruit from my own tree.

I am the god of myself.

I let you all taste me,

for what and who I am.

Bottle me,

pour me on your necks,

to no end,

evergreen.