pathetic.org :: a b b a t o i r by Johanna May

a b b a t o i r

by Johanna May

Did I ever tell you
the other realm where we touch
you are wordless as an animal,
meat,
pink,
red,
milk,
and I am likewise folds that take flanks,
bled scratched rump.
We echo like flesh on butcher slabs,
knifeless but stabbed of each keening intent.
Such death, yours guttural,
mine shocked squeal.

01/12/2013

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