|
third trimester throb
by Rachelle Howethe ache clings
like a newborn
with little fingers
that scream
for maternal intimacy.
i try and
claw out my womb,
try to cast down
the spawn that's
been enveloped
from my skin.
and i can't deny
the beauty that it
could possess,
the raw emotion
that bleeds...
it flows from
arms and veins,
from fangs and teeth,
from a tongue
that's been encased
in worms meat.
but the dawn is coming,
its around the corner, and
i see my salvation
in glass and shards.
(it can be mended,
it will be rebuilt.) 03/11/2004 Posted on 03/11/2004
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Lindsay Sanders on 03/13/04 at 07:23 PM uhh... whoa. damn girl. um. wow. |
| Posted by Beth K Hannah on 03/30/04 at 04:08 AM wow...i always forget how much i like your work, and then i come back to it and it moves me to my core. |
| Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 04/01/04 at 10:04 PM it flows from
arms and veins,
from fangs and teeth,
from a tongue
that's been encased
in worms meat...........beautiful language sound and amazing line, babe! congrats on POTD. well earned. |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 04/01/04 at 10:08 PM this poem gives me a chill down my spine everytime i read it for some reason...extremely well written rachelle |
| Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 04/16/04 at 03:48 PM A very raw, yet contained feel to it. Good job |
|
