beneath her, the soil sings

trapped, like a sailor marooned,
caught between the struggle for supremacy
between myometrial contractions and the hard
craggy protuberances of a platypelloid pelvis,
this stillborn, fresh and warm, returns;
to spaces in between neurons
where happiness is stored in vesicles
inhibited by GABA;
to nights of insomnia and illusions;
amyloid plaques reminiscent of
egyptian plagues – effulgent blood,
darkness and death.
this woman cradles death
in earthen elements no longer
in equilibrium.
beneath her, the soil sings
songs of insanity

drop me a line, maybe?

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