mother wound, a sestina, published on Whisper and The Roar
These thoughts of you
are thorns that return,
stick in and make me bleed
With skin pricked open
I can almost feel
but without you, I cannot speak
The times we speak
go best when you
make me swallow the shame you feel
You always return
unzip me open
unloose my vessels to bleed
You love my lunar bleed
Feign interest while I speak
Your fingers prise me open,
prepare the path for you
Ease your snug return
inside where you can feel
When you are fed you feel
and from my wound milk bleeds
And there your mouth returns
Your milk-stained beard does speak
It seems that you are only you
when you eat me open
It is only to you I can open
It is only with you I can feel
It is only with you I become you
It is only for you I bleed
It is…
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