w

the ribs of the moon / sinking // the star that looked like mother / the star yanking / at the stillborn’s hair / the day mother shrieked / like a fallen sky // our dark highways, our stench of cutup legs from the old razor blades in the attic / where rests mother’s corpse / and the stillborn’s // we loved each other like we would / strip each other to death / like we would / use our teeth to suck at each other’s breaths, / leave bruises in the shape of grieving // there were the complicated, swelled swerves of your body / your eyes circled around the rims of trees disguised as mountaintops