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