Monday, April 28, 2008

The Wound

I have a mother wound that will not heal
It hemorrhages loss and hope like a cracked pipe
A house haunted like the clean bones that I pull
One by one from the hole in my arm like
Blood from the veins I’ve tried to open
Like the jellyfish of a dream that empties
Me of bones and teeth and blood and anything
To say help me someone I die of starvation
For a little real something that feels like
Love might now slow the draining death
Of my mother’s need to be better than everyone
Include me, stinking, loud, sucking child of needs

4 comments:

benjibopper said...

i like this a lot, it hurts in the way it should. the images are gutteral. it's hard not to feel that way (even though I am clearly no mother) sometimes.

Utah Savage said...

Benji, you are one brave man. Men have fled this sight. You may not be a mother, but I'll bet you had one.

Ghost Dansing said...

that's a kewl poem Utah.... downer.... but really kewl.

goth maybe emo

Randal Graves said...

Now that wasn't a very happy piece. Probably why I like it.