i wake on mother earth, then stand
on rocks and shards of glass
though cracked stepping stones dare not lie
i suffer still the path
hot flesh meets cold stone; i approach
fertlize her mother’s grave
to help the roses’ stems along
i pray they’ll swallow it one day
and take the etched, wretched words away
rest in pieces
rest in feces
he holds that rock in one hand
6 fingers clutching for dear life
begging trust to be enough to molten
and sustain the couples’ diet
so quick to remind
that as i grow wider
pseudo starcrossed lovers chicly shrivel
like every other weapon-word they’ve said
they won’t even remember
etched indellibly into my very flesh
the ink is on my digging arm
that’s just unearthed a pile
6 feet for you and
6 for him
i suffer still her wrath
No comments:
Post a Comment