my godmy
god my god
i remember how tender i was
how sweet
how soft
like fruit flesh
like lamb to the slaughter
12th march at 10 am
papaya as tenderizer. red meat stabbed into hooks. a wife who eats her husband. she misses their long conversations. the scent of papaya. it tastes like medicine. my mother loves it; her father loved it. i like the ritual of medicine. before bedtime, my orange pills and my pink water bottle. each in each hand. i lie in bed with my eyes that haven't cried in months. sharon said eye drops are blasphemy. i put them in, they stream down the sides of my face. i have a strange feeling like i miss crying.
