It was neither the time nor the place to remind you of yours.
You found me, pushed once, spread gratitude’s thighs.
Verse softened fingers pulled words from my womb
stretching umbilicals, yanked at the end.
I laboured, for it’s pain (and you smiled) cuts the fat from the bone.
No bloody gushes, I’d battened insides past dilations.
One (oh so poetically) stroke of the beard,
midwifery guises aside,
now lover and mentor no conflict apparent,
knees straddled my neck with eyes on my eyes.
Your mirror, my mirror I offered my mouth.
The morsels you pushed past my teeth
were up for adoption to infertile heirs.
Annealed in suttee rends you grease, slipped away.
I tempered to carbon a catalyst core,
surrounding hisssssssssssssssssounds
ripping loose with the tearing of unknitted bones
I am flesh, blood and cartilage, not plasticine dreams.
Now is the time.
And my place to remind you
let go of the lost.
—LP
This article appears in Mar 6-12, 2014.
You suck!
Now there goes a perfectly good lunch.
Feck me, it’s like I’ve entered a time displacement and wound up in Manchester, circa 1982, spending my dole packet on lager and crisps and hoping I pull tonight, at the club.
Whassamatta Morrissey?. Did your latest rent boy kill the mood by ordering veal on date night?
Is this what they call postpartum blues?…..oh brother, thanks for not making me a female.
I normally HATE it when people write poetry on here but I actually quite liked this one OB. Very graphic and disgusting but I think that’s what you were going for, right?
TL DNR
http://stuffpoint.com/johnny-depp/image/17…
Apparantly this is now the “Love the way we bad poetry” section of the site. *does the picard stand and hand extend* How the fuck did this even get in here?
……………..wat?
I can’t tell if this is about rape or abortion.
Maybe both.
i would say neither.
Sounds like it’s about adoption or surrogacy and it sounds like OB’s trying to heal from the emotional trauma.
Pretty legit bitch if it is the case. Giving up a baby you carried for upwards of 42 weeks and gave birth to, I can only imagine, is gut wrenching.