Andrea Cote

“I come from fear
I feed you dread,

I break the bread of shivers
among your poor.

I hear boards creaking
scratched by some perverse animal.

I step into the dark
I sit in the midst of its dense back.

Sitting there I ask to hear
your cruelest of stories.

I welcome terror, that somber bull,
I fight for your name held in his jaws.

I taste the fruit whose coarse skin
is eaten by beasts who’ve never tasted honey.

There’s no more bitter food
than the fruit of love traversed by doubt.”
― Andrea Cote