Next Tuesday

Next Tuesday
You will agree to belong to me

It’s a moral slavery
Where you will consent
To the lash and the flame

I will make you stoop
And gather roots
To take to me
That I might throw them at you
And berate you for being late
And lazy

You will try to escape
There is no doubt of this
But I hunt you
Through the fennels and bogs
And find you
Exhausted, alive
And craving death

I may take off your foot
In retaliation
Or may decide to be kind
And merely whip your back
Bloody and raw

My children will beg your children
For forgiveness and redemption
A fair exchange, I hope