when i walked blindly through the streets
i fell into routine like another limb
and shuffled the playlist to find the one song
that made me woman again and not 'her'.
in the hallway past the mural of smiling eyes where the hospital
in the hallway past the mural of smiling eyes where the hospital staff tried to kill grief,
in the hallway past the mural of smiling eyes where the hospital staff tried to kill grief, she is splitting her other half away.
tearing its bloodless limbs,
soft shadow curl of a hand
milkless lips and a gravestone too small to call death.
what is left to fill the hollow cheeks like first rain.
what is left of his body that read
what is left of his body that read 'i carry war in my wake.'
your future children stretch my skin out of proportion
in a puppet act of no strings.
salvage whatever you can.
she has sealed into memory how to grip her
lover's wrist until the skin squirmed purple.
to avoid his eyes at mealtimes, leave half the bed cold
until he is dead to the world and dead to her
and she unfolds her muscle knots for another day
when nothing has changed but the stronghold prey.