With life

She is nude


Her nipples graze the passage of her downfall

Blood is dry and hennaed between her thighs

Who stand witness

To aborted possibility cut short

Held glistening above her in crucifixed parody

She will never bear life

It is not her weft and the thick choker around her neck

Tightens as reminder

If she grows swollen it will be from loss not gain

No feeling of a child pushing its way out

Only the deadening cold taste of metal on her skin

A doctor’s “tut, tut” and rough handling, his voice a graze

Staining her inevitable socially affixed shame

She stares out of a small window

Paint pealing like tears on the empty sill

Where a bird sits sheltering from rain

She thinks of him cutting his way into her with flint eyes

Hands around her throat, pulling her apart

A flashlight douses darkness, shining on blood and her hand

Reaching out

She is empty now

Passion snuffed, an ember no longer close to surface

She is an arroyo dried and crusted over

She is a gourd grown without seed

Disappointment is her meal, she is a featherless bird on wire

Dried empty by sun and rinsed of music

Before this, her watermelon body swayed in water-sprinklers

Feasting on her abundance and possibility

All that would be, all that would be

Is laid waste

Tumbleweed and Joshua tree

Punishment and consequence

The rapist will return at night to his wife and

Three blonde children

She will recover from her tears and cuts

Even the shame of feeling his soil enveloping her

But she will never


Forget what he took in miscarried act

What would happen if we swapped vision?

The fridgidity of growth or a certain constraint

Because if you split my casing I would possess less chance

My surround would envelop your shadows and night cross twice

For women have a shorter life and a longer one

Small boned with narrow shoulders and deep set eyes

Stretching barren like a long road through desert

If she could turn the knife around

Press it gently against his steady pulse

Cut out the evil as he removed her chance

To fill her arms

With life


30 thoughts on “With life

  1. very powerful. I’ve had it in mind for a long time and now I’m going to get back to your site and read through all of you poems…

  2. Thank you gorgeous one. I wish we could somehow collaborate on something as I always get so inspired by your mind and thoughts. If we were neighbors I know we’d be writing at least three books together … but in absence of that I am glad to know you and you always give me a hundred ideas. You are one of the most creative people I am lucky enough to know. I miss you.

  3. A kind of loss the full measure of which only a woman can truly know, but if she can tell it thus a mere male can feel some of its truth.

  4. awww…well. now that I am painting, perhaps we should combine some paintings with your poetry. But the problem is that won’t make you money. I would like to help you somehow financially. Maybe one day I will figure out a way how to do that. If on the other hand, you want to try writing some children’s books or faerie tales and you want me to illustrate, I think you could make money on those. And what would be really nice is if you could somehow blend some of your poetry (but for children) into them. I think it could be done. some books are just so lyrical. I read a marvelous faerie tale that was an update to Persephone’s search for Cupid and it has a very lyrical refrain (advice from the winds to the girl to find her lover).
    Also, if you look at Grimms, you also find refrains that are poetic which are embedded within the stories.

  5. Oh my gosh! This is gutwrenchingly raw not only in the tale it tells. but also in the immensity of the grief that has to be carried in woman’s empty vessel of life. Wow and wow again for the bravery and courage it took to tell this tale. Only you could spell out unbelievable heartache in a way that the reader can’t help but feel what the victim felt and be hurt by it as well. Je t’aime, N 🙂 ❤ xoxoxoxox

  6. I can never fathom how it must feel like to be a woman and everything it entrails, but pieces like this help for a better understanding. This feels really raw with pain but also like there is a sense of empowerment seeping through the liness especially the ending…

  7. Dear Kunal thank you so much my friend for reading and commenting. I am so appreciative of you and you letting me know this touched you. I am really happy. Thank you again

  8. Honestly this may sound weird but I like sad poetry when it’s real and it’s about something important so I’m so glad you liked it too because sometimes I write these sadder ones and they are not liked as much as the uplifting or the humorous and yet they’re what I would say speak loudest. Thank you for your encouragement it means so much to me and to you I am grateful my friend

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