Unborn

I’ll slide back up the hole, back inside and sit in your belly, warm in a womb-woman,
cord myself up to the woman not ‘mum’ yet
I’m going to be your little killer, prepare a lead box for a womb and keep me unborn,
execution before I kill our name and them

 

Advertisements
This entry was posted in poetry & prose and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s