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 Feb 2021 Christina Marie
Eli
is it my fault,
that that’s what you grew up to be?
did we play too much army?
let you touch too much of me?
we were only seven darling,
always down the street running,
did you ever know?
of your daddy screaming
our buddy bleeding
your mommy’s drinking
of our glasses shattering?
or were you blind like me, too?
was there something i could have done, if my eyes were open too?
yuh this been on my mind
Mother Moon smiles at me
She says it’s okay to be alone
If alone is grounding, is peaceful, is safe
Because, child, there will be many battles to be fought
There will be times, lots, when you’ll be thrown into death
But now, tonight, rest in the bossom of your mother
Let her comfort you, care for you, tell you all is well
My mother smiles at me, she embraces me in her cool breeze
And I am home.
oh, to crawl my way inside,
to scoop dahlias out of my throat —
and find the dumping site for all the gods
that died in my hands —
to this there is no absolution.

to crawl my way inside
and find the veins that survived,
the veins that did not —
the veins
too late to be saved by prayers.

to crawl my way inside
this skin — this catastrophe:
all flesh and a pool of blood
and all the nights i didn't drown
and perhaps soon,
i'll finally get to my ribs,
part them with all the softness
that my cruel hands can muster
and stare at the quiet, incomprehensible aching.


as though the calm will remain
suspended in the air.


soon,
it will all fall away.
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