the words that i have to describe what happened here are not mine,
have no value to me: slow dissolution before a rupture. the recognition
of pain when the surge fades.
even now, i cannot feel. too frightened, or strong, or alone.
all feeling lives in relation to you. how did you manage that,
how does it feel to know you’re a god, a mother, a fleshy divinity?
is speaking for you something sacred? or are you fertile like rotting fruit –
pungent and profane?
ice floe or no, the tide rises. the memory of limbs quiets in the cool dusk.
i am using only what you have given me. this is all that i have.
daddy frankenstein, i am begging you: look me in the eyes and tell me
you don’t want me to live