Chapter 1
He sighs (stolen from Tarfia Faizullah)
I eat at it raw, like acid poured on a field of
rotted vegetation. I eat at it, black.
Until I puke it up again.
This is what it is to be like a woman.
With a
-hospital grade man-made buck knife-
to carve initials into
my pussy pink entrails
I lay scorched salt burn sour, in the sprayed acid field.
He plunges the dull knife,
opening up my lobotomy scars,
and cutting away at my paper dolls.
Until I puke it up again,
the white petals I ate for my breasts to stop humming-
I am ensnared by the strings attached to my cervix.
Rolling around in the red lump potatoes until I am noosed
by the longing of an hour free from such anger,
at a god who made me feel every-inch-of-him,
even when I am not with him.
How could I be enraged at Him
when I am the one who did wrong?
So He says-
While dousing me with acid,
and planting seeds in my bed.
To make room for another Savior.
