Before the Inquisition

Revoke me as the prisoner of your heart I have paced finitude From wall to wall, and cannot find The empty space Through which electrons crawl To post the graffitti of their freedom. I want no parole Exonerate me from the conviction Of your desire It is my gender for which I am accused A stereotypical blame Beside the innocense of my name. In silence I bear The stain against my honor And love her more Who spilled it there. For it is this love That shall be no spectator's sport That a man is command to love His wife, and risk his life Until she be healed Shall be yielded Healing him And still spontaneous as my dream When since our youth We bask in the flame of our hearts Cupping our hands to shield the wick Now cold In the frozen knuckles wet with sleet. Release me by acquital with the truth Gender only look like alike But there is a finer distinction To be made by faith And its different sensibility For culture is absolute Then choice Is nothing more than a dance of masquerade And I am no I For there is no distinction No boundary defining the mass Indifferentialable Despite the splintering bang. No, set me apart As individual before the inquisition of your court My heart recants nothing My love is my love as my love will be.