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.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poems and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s