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Conviction
If they caught you,
long enough for me
to see that face again,
maybe I would know
your name.
I could stop calling you ‘the rapist,’
and start calling you John or Luke or Paul
I want to make my hatred large and whole.

If they found you, I could take
those solid red balls and slice them
separately off, as everyone watched.
I have already planned what I could do
For a pleasurable kill, a slow, soft, ending.

Next,
I would slice out your tongue
You couldn’t curse, or scream.
Only a face of pain would speak
For you, your thick ignorance through.

Thirdly,
Should I hack away those sweet
cow eyes with the glass blades you made
Me lie down on? Or should I shoot, with a gun,
Close into the knee, where they say
The cap shatters immediately?

I picture you now,
Your fingers rubbing sleep from
Those live blind eyes, while I rise restlessly.
I need the blood of your hide
on my hands. I want to kill you
With boots and guns and glass
I want to fuck you with knives.

Come to me, Come to me,
Come die and lie, beside me.

-Alice Sebold. Lucky