i thought i fought well;
but the blood between fingers
lingers - languid.
fluid - sick sick sick
to the pit of my belly and i was caught in
limbo. eyes lidded. teeth
candied and rotting. oh, the ridicule.
you saw it in me.
the root - lit in heaven’s light
and a moral cause for concern.
an invite for the dead.
their muffled wails caught in coffined
carousels.
i buried my hands in
top soil,
in sacrilege.
something
reached back.