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.