A field hand birth in sandal feet
The afterbirth is ocean skies
She braces sternum abreast to me
The golden wheat and flies

Worms slither laced living
Within her locks
The holy realm
Her hips
A pelvis snapped will drool more blood
Than a thousand razored wrists

I supped of tears
I cupped
I drank
I grinned a hacksaw’s gleam
I undress myself
Till I am only bone
And bathe in sewer’s stream

Dream not of drunk
Dream just this birth
The golden wheat and flies
My daughter birthed from crumbling womb
Beneath these ocean skies

Ah
If only I had some blade
To cut her cord to she
I suppose the only shears I have
Are my spit shined pointed teeth