Monday, April 30, 2012

Someone must console these lonesome daughters

No written word or ballad will appease them

---


“anxiety” (2012)

subdermal
the ice that shifts beneath my skin
fiery fingers crawl like spiders from my veins
licking at the air in wide gasps through a garish, gaping maw
in in more more
until a vacuum surrounds me
and the pressure pushes my soul from my every pore
it filters through my skin and disperses like spores
like a disease; sperm careening like hellhounds for the wincing ovum
announcing itself like a pestilence
like a foul blister on the heel of the world
awaiting the miscarriage, awaiting the perversion
so thick, running through the fingers of a mourning Lord
pooling at the feet of the One True God
who put His faith in me
and delivered me
to suicide.

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