She Tells Us Her Creation Story

A flush of abundance that trickles into vacancy,
Rushing my ideals back and forth in empty wheelbarrows-

This man here, chose the wealth of forbidden fruit
Chose this body (not mine)
Chose these limbs (and no others).

I baptize it as self-preservation,
Sanitizing what they call treason;
He chose missive,
I launch missiles into avoidance.
They rewrite history, giving memories a new name.

I do not recall my genesis,
The full moon birthed from my mouth,
A foaming, deadly, hissing pearl.
I live, a creation myth in reverse,
With the boy-god who sinks into his mother’s side
Unswells, stomaching the covenant of milk and honey.
Ask her bones to break into atoms,
To light up whatever we have left.

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