You came. I saw, I
laid my head against your shoulder,
resting, while the shock went through you.

No creation story, this, a thin
layer of latex to see to it.
No used semen will drip out of my body
and onto the shower floor, slide down
to meet the drain, to disappear forever.

Every month, my uterus sheds its nest,
and the red and brown accusations start.
The fertility god twists a pin into
my ovaries, and the pain lays me flat.

I deny to a body what it's made for:
some green-eyed, brown-haired child,
the totem of womanhood, the symbol,
with its fat, undeveloped limbs,
its milk-hungry mouth always screaming.

One day, my stomach will swell up.
I'll either explode or something
will succeed at digging its way out of me.
Happy then, I'll begin to eat it alive.

10/08/2005

Posted on 10/09/2005
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair