O sage I know I am I am a sage

I know unkindness is a selfish act

a straight fish act or fishy furtive act


fish or fowl and a slice of the knife

In the word selfish have you seen the fish

I meant to write you a poem of love


green sage grey sage and sings the silver wind

Swing me on the swing sway me with your hand

wing me on the wind these were all my songs


The geese in their V's are yipping like dogs

along the selvedge of the winter woods

There must be an edge to the self a hedge


against hell Must be an edge or a verge

Here is the self-edge that you cut against

Here I am savaged I meant to be saved


O sage I know I am I am a sage

I know unkindness is a savage act

and savageness is never savory


Is your heart assuaged Well mine is not

O sweet here I am whispering an urge

for the good life if goodness can be had


the great fields the geese the edge of the wood

What scraps can I salvage for the soup When

soup can't assuage there is no love to save

By Sarah Arvio