My hips squelch in blood, a black swan emerges from a slit in my uterus. Crack after crack my pelvis starts to shatter. I sleep evaded, frightened by grief. I wake smelling of molded placenta. I grew thicken skin on my face, my mouth sore in filth.
She looks like me… Bathed in vanity. If this is what she truly wants; I can wear her skin. Her feathers on my hands as gloves, her sly as smiles, her greed as love transfusing angels into sin. The luster of pride. Highness. She puts the scalpel on my eyes, then cuts in between my eye balls to the back of my skull. She pushes her fist in and out of my stomach, clenches on my bowels in frolic.
I feel sedated. Possessed.
The owl at night screams at the wolf howling. Two crows by the side of the lake, sharp eyed, preaching demons for might. Murder. The water is translucent. The swan scratches her nails on my chest to pull my heart out. Three drops of blood poison the water. The cross of Jesus held inside a black tube. The black tube leads to a stairway, the stairway leads to nothing. Ultraviolet vortex above my head and two gods at the end of it. The son of Osiris strangles the owl for one last offering. The wolf runs in terror. Trepidation.
Eyes on fire, I stretch my wings in delight. Loud laughter High on triumph.
On full moon, you crawled back into me, lost looks weakened. You said put your legs around me, strain me in. I did. Your sighs pervaded my bosom, and sometimes when I moaned in pain your eyes shut on lust. You’d whisper “Woman, let me inherit your love.” That too is a form of worship. Did she convince you she was a goddess? Did she stretch the muscles of your lungs? Are you out of breath? Can’t you see love is illusive? Did you forget how to be a man? You’ve lost your truth. You’ve lost your god. Pray on your knees for me.
Seven virgins raise their arms for grace. Fruit too ripe to eat. I put the tip of a fine string in the hole of the sewing needle, knot after knot I pull in each labia to the other. One shall not touch herself or be touched. The man of mine, puts his head in between their thighs, begging for the smell of virtue he’s taken from me. Forbidden of pleasure, he walks back into my reign, disgraced.
I slit their throats then soak their bodies in grease, I refine the grease through a clean napkin then rub it on my clitoris back and forth. Sorrow dwells in orgasms, hatred dwells in the strength of our daughters, and their daughters, and their daughters.
Do you remember being dead? Are you thankful for the chasm of your grave? Do you remember my face? The smile that dazzled you. How come you be so numb? Are you scared again? I loathe the scent of your flesh upon mine. I loathe your soul to the last bone of my curved spine.
You shall be punished one more time.