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third trimester; birthed of a virgin
by Rachelle Howei'm praying again.
with lips
that have been chapped
since last year.
your lipstick tastes
of cherries and apples,
your skin smells
of forgotten promises.
and i held you there, tight
with your insides hanging out.
i had sacrificed your veins,
wept your tears, and spilled
your blood with no pretense.
there were echoes of days and
epics of these things
with which we
buried and burned and scorned.
i had lept with broken legs
in so many days,
had carried you
across the finish line
after it had been painted red.
but you were born, my child,
not birthed.
i harbored you inside my womb;
begged for your salvation
from a broken floor
and on bruised knees. 12/18/2003 Author's Note: hm. the places i go today...
Posted on 12/18/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 12/18/03 at 07:28 PM I love the way this poem details the body. The action of the piece cascades from the lips down to the legs and then up to the womb.... it takes in the whole person. Great read. |
| Posted by Kate Donovan on 12/18/03 at 07:42 PM this is beautiful. i especially love the imagery of leaping with broken legs, and also the bruised knees from having fallen to them so many times. |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 12/18/03 at 11:15 PM *gasps*...lovely |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 12/21/03 at 02:22 AM Yes, indeed, very mobile. |
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