& again I'm on my knees,
the field naked on both sides:
above an old sun,
sucked in by old mud.
& the fawn is far
too small-haunched for my hunger
but lies warm & unkicking
in the trap of my thighs.
tell me
do i close my eyes. do i
reach for the knife.
how much hunger warrants blood
from this body beneath mine.
tell me
none. tell me none. to bite my tongue. to suck.
to love you like a mother & let you bolt
untouched;
tell me how to let go of the throat
once the snare
has been cut.
then forgive me when I love you
like a hunter, always:
when body snaps forward like a bowstring
as you shoot towards the sun
that always sets
on my mouth
that always drips
to split you open. to claim my trapping. to take you in my hands,
again & again,
strip the skin to get to the heart
& taste.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
this poem took exactly a week to write. probably the most time i've ever spent on a poem, the most i've ever picked something apart just to restitch, thinking over every line not only in terms of rhythm and imagery--in terms of craft--but in terms of my heart. about three versions of this poem sounded good, but this is the one that felt right. and i'm so fucking proud. it shows SO much growth from the beginning of the year. thank you soso much to abi and shezal and sarah (she doesn't have a wp but still shoutout to her!) for helping me in the process. for the couple of you still reading, thank u so much for sticking with me and leaving comments -- i just got published for the first time a week or so ago & i wouldn't have had the spirit to get there if not for all the constant support u guys gave me on here. i might pop another poem into here before i turn 16 (jan 15!) but assuming this is the end, i love you all with my entire heart!
p.s. i might be publishing on wp less and more in online journals -- my twt is @/gardencries and everything will be linked there xx
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Poetrydying by day ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･no. 4 in poetry 11.20.20 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ © VANGOHS, 2020
