My stomache tugs at
an old fetus, belly up,
a stutter in a hot month.
I think, I would paint her
like a spring egg,
or sculpt her like a chess game
where she could be queen
and cut off the eyelids of liars,
I would give her my hands to do with
all the weapons
and my tongue to speak with
all the words
she would know that she is not a pink
fluff laying on a pillow,
she is a sharp dagger,
a soft poison,
a prowess taking life by God’s
she would know
if she was not an old thought,
if she was not a small white stutter
stabbed out of the clutches
of my womb
she would know.
This is so moving and beautiful. It made me cry.
Sorrow made beautiful with the wrriten would. Amazing how you turn a form of communication into something almost tangible, and consuming.
A very powerfull sentiment expressed in such a heartfelt way.. deep and moving thank you for sharing this piece of your heart!
I cried – actually still doing it.
Emotionally and spiritually cathartic.
Your way with words is awe-inspiring.
You, Maggie, are a gem, a rare talent. This was heartrending. And yet through the pain, through the sadness, it is beautiful
What a terrific heartfelt poem. I enjoyed it very much.
This just took my breath away. Beautiful writing.
Regret condensed into a powerful poem…. Especially the “she would know” phrase that almost becomes a refrain. Thanks so much for sharing this.
How beautifully horrible. I mean that at as sincere compliment. Thank you for sharing this, and than you for dropping by my blog. I hope you find something there that moves you, whether it be to laugh, cry, or sneer in disgust.