September 2010
4 posts
A voice wants to know why I wasn’t there the day the doctors splayed you out on the operating table, You who carried me like a bouquet of splinters in your belly, who let me suckle ambrosia from your coveted breast. A voice wants to know how I can seal my heart up like the lid of a submarine. The truth is I don’t know what’s in there, and if I open that valve too quickly the...