Friday, October 3, 2014

Numbers 11: In Writing

can you eat?
The gaping maw
of Gimme gimme 
the pot, the sea
the flying fish
the glittering bees 
with wings the beat
the breathing night
Give me honey
Give me dew
And dripping milk
carry me
rock me

Who will love me?
Born down by
the weight of your being
I have nursed 
my breast to fallen skin
light as the winds
that flap against my belly, holowed

Your weeping want
how can I fill your emptyness
carry your enamel shell
sickening of surfeit
Till I am flattened 
on this parched earth
drained of dew
And sleep to the sound of beating wings
enlivning the night winds

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