April Fox

There's a razor line
Right on one side
Wrong over here
Our thighs slide down the blade
While we straddle, waiting
Euphemisms for
Shouldn't Have
and Straight Fucked Up
are acid in our veins and we repeat them
rote recitations
in the game we have to play to keep the child
cradled
in our nest of imperfections.
Let she who hasn't sinned
cast the first stone and yet
There are stones and there are boulders
placed upon the chest 
of the tiny innocent
Let she who casts the first stone cast another
and again, breaking pieces of the boulder
Burying the one who set the razor
burying, and waiting
Until she's sure
the stillness is forever.