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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Blemishes My body’s mistakes My wounds of disgrace Injected by faith In science and progress Flogging myself with second-guesses I have given myself away. to uncaring men, pressed jackets white jackets, packets of sympathy baskets of fruit set upon the writing desk in solitary confinement, padded walls. haunted halls, bathroom stalls with locked doors. Linoleum floors Poor, poor pitiful me Cherry pick my favourite reasons, depending on the season Why do the patterns keep repeating? serve them up on a platter! for delicate devouring and just desserts some things are generational. inherited bestowed I cradle my worth. In my own wretched hands Once delicate Here I stand. Not stolid Nor stoic I am not put together. Not sorted I am apart. Electrical currents running through the pieces, stringing them together Making a woman out of angst and energy The sheer will of being. I have nothing to live for Only these words Hospital gown flowing in my rage. Windswept, like a mage In the middle of casting a spell A sorceress in distress, in peril Fighting to remain In the moment, present and tame But wild fear presents itself at my feet. The wolf is ready to eat. I stay indoors to hide from the chase. But at the end of the day When night falls to the ground I heard the call. I wish to respond. To howl back at the crack of dawn Rolling in the sun with my wild baying, panting, praying But I stay put. I hold it back. Inside my skin that cannot contain My ancestral blood This is the flood. The flood I drowned in the flood. The wolf is not only animal. But avatar for gods too abstract to see with the naked eye It growls it snarls. It bites my legs. It promises peace. as it gnaws on my pride the alure of freedom, teasing me to leave my comfort zones knowing it will crunch my bones. the first chance it gets. when I trip over my intentions into mud face first ruining my escape I do not outrun the wolf. I do not outsmart the gods. I do not escape the flood. I fall— not like a heroine, but like a relic dropped mid-ritual mud in my mouth, bones in the wolf’s grin the spell unfinished The door still locked. the howl still inside me rotting sweetly like fruit on the desk
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