283 Readings


Hell, Mary, all these knots
ought to grip the girls
from slipping down,
down toward the gloss
of water we never want
to reach. I walked in worry

& worked as into sons
my womb coagulated.
Now I’m told always
how they resemble me,
but white. Hell, Mary,
let them never bear

the overflow of poisons.
Posted 04/07/13
"Did you not pour me out like milk and curdle me like cheese, clothe me with skin and flesh and knit me together with bones and sinews?" Job
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