By: Arianne Bakelmun
of my womb
I did not create you.
Clawing your way into my warmth
Shattering my ribs
with the cavernous expanse of emptiness
Both our heads bowed,
shoulders curling into a space without center
ripping slowly over years endlessly feeding and birthing a dead thing.
Then, a sightless mouth.
Sucking on my breasts
Toothless as innocence and decay and violence
but, red raw gums
can’t pierce my skin.
I NEED space
for my own gestations
My Baby screams, keens for my attention.
and soon, if no soothing comes,
will go quiet forever