My blood pumped backwards

When I knew the saint,

Moving like warm paint

As I held back words.

I was free to move

Once I claimed myself

And I crossed myself

And the saint approved.

My blood comforted

And told me to see

’Twas cool to be me–

A wreck of some sort.

I was free and hale

Once I opened my

Mind and my soul cried

And I tore the veil.