I Guess It’s Too Late to Live on the Farm


we did not choose to share a body: a body is not
chosen            in the same way we choose

a room, an orgasm, a weapon
to suck men in like air            mold their clay

devour like weeds devour
earth until earth is just land ;;;

mother said            i guess it’s too late to live
on the farm.


we do not remember when we were born
only that we breathed light in swords            dark dripping

out of our mouths when our bellies fill
with the absence of a child            who is never born

but every month, we feel her kick & name her

& pray for her to save us            from ourselves.



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