Severance: A Meditation

I keep trying to remove myself from love,
	extract ego like a mass, irradiate

	adoration to wither any lingering whiff of self
so I can see it clearly—what is facet,

what is fragment. I wore white shoes
	to my confirmation and now I hold everything

	to that standard of purity. I want love
so clean that when I put my self back into it, 

I can forego fear. Peel off every edge
	of need. Find love a fencepost, its root so deep

	and concrete I could never bend it 
to my aching will. If I could anoint

your feet with oil, would you find me right
	after the resurrection? Would you love me

	like a fencepost, manmade and immobile?
In all my mythology, there are only two

loves: selfish and selfless. Both 
	have fractured me. 

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