Isaac bound,
as people tend to be,
for approval. Earning
points by nearing
death while avoiding
the indignity of a scream;
passing the threshold
for victory as the
cold metal met his chest.

To be clear, he is not
silent out of trust. He
is as stunned as anyone,
though not by the blood-
thirst of his father or his
father’s strange god. It’s
lovethirst that he can’t
fathom, that it’s potent
enough to will a body
up mountains, onto altars.