My Dying Knave Poem by Samah Khan

There he lies, his shirt sodden red
His hands stretched out to me
And yet I stay back in fear I’ve bred
For the years he stayed at sea

Where I heard from two sailors who sayeth to me
“List to us, my lady, we come bearing truth,
And the tale of yon man’s infidelity,
Truly we know he has been uncouth.”

And there I stood rooted to the ground,
My throat, a harrowed leaden tool
My ears deaf to all but one sound
The beating of my heart, solid and cruel

When he returned home, two years past then
I took a knife to his throat and that was the end
He looked at me, befuddled and slain
But forgiveness lingering within his pain

And with his last few breaths he asked me what he’d done
To deserve my less than loving air
He cried when I answered, his tears worse than blood
And his sobs were torment to my ears

“My love, never did I, all these years at sea
Think of another but of thee
But I still forgive your impetuous mistake
Forgive you me-but my heart still breaks.”

And so I put his head upon my bower
And kissed his brow with my tears and breath
And while his body bled with great pace within the hour
My heart bled away with him to death