There is a good look that I wear like a blood clot. I have sewn it over my left breast. I have made a vocation of it.
Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.
When the juices of trees have no means of escape, they clot and rot in them, making the trees hollow and good for nothing.
Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours.