I Drop a White Pill in My Sink
& bleed elsewhere one following, ripe month. Finger daggered,
toothbed exposed girl-wet & teasing, my breast tugged away from my chest:
a zippered wound—red red river, overflowing river, appled midnight—moon
a bitten core. Doesn’t really matter. My knee skinned to bone. My razored
thigh. Licking the sink side like drinking the snow. Apparently Edna. Apparently
my mother. Apparently I will never be holdable again. Tongue-cut
metal. The whole world metal. The whole world one small paper box. A paper cut
on my earlobe. Thin cut like a toothbrush bristle. Never why. My thighs all-over harsh. Dreams
hard as marl. I cut my feet again and again. On my dreams. I cast my ash in the river. I earned
this. I walked in Georgia. If you give a girl an abortion, she’s going to ask
for another abortion. So the story goes. A blister presses crisp as a shirt, relinquishes blood
there beneath skin: lagoonal. My private party. My tv turned down. Snow turned
to rain. Body backlit and finally: dripping. Bleeding. The sink is a stilted oracle. She drains. I drain.
Un-weft, I wept. I never told my mother.
2020-12-21 23:56:01
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