So Fallible

She will fall onto that bed of nails she pinned you to for the same sins
a month, a week, an hour later and wince with recognition.

She will take the rope she hung you with and twist it
round her own fair neck seeking to learn something of closure.

She will break the mirror your portrait has become --
use the pieces to carve another course. Bleed a bit of human slick and slipping.

She will paint these words as epitaph on the common Lascaux.
Look. Your hand fits that print, perfectly.

So Fallible was first published by Conspire.