the sound of a womb closing in
shutting down
ridding itself of sorrow
pain
and
fear.
i have heard it.
deafening tones
exciting crescendos
crashing and washing through my ears.
i am numb
and three minutes from still-born.
a child conceived from ill-morals
and forced desire.
patricide?
impossible.
i never knew my father.
matricide?
i can dream...
the thought holds me together
keeps me warm on lonely nights.
only i long to dress the corpse up for play.
my own version of the oedipus complex...
"Hush little baby, don’t say a word..."
that song
is
faded and old.
the last thing i want to hear before i die.
before the world hits me with a resounding slap
and i wake up...
nursing a headache
touching scabbed over wrists
stripped of vanity
lying naked
and
waiting...
waiting for my god
"Now I lay me down to sleep..."
to come. |
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