The Woman, by pd lyons


The Woman

I could not speak.
Maybe loved more gently
I could have.
Maybe if there was a moon
I could have.

But only sun –
a crazy glue
lips sealed
slays weds
impregnates
itself.

This is what I cannot say,
this is what they refuse to hear:
After death is prenatal.
Through me,
everything is world.
Without me?
Conception is by eating,
birth by excretion

.

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