women who create themselves from fig tree barks
Mary, mary (with melody) even our bodies are built on sacrifice. Have you ever seen an organism of the opposite sex that not only lets you enter it but also expands to make room for you and bleeds? We need to play the dead in this world and wake up in some fig tree bark. Those who've never been wounded mock the wounded. In the end, they long to find a solace in an untouched maghony box, scattering their rotten figs into a very box they ruthlessly worn down. Time of leaving came, spring that hides into autumn turned to winter. I left the life that I entered quietly, left my unfaithful partner at the last junction. Wave sounds inside me was loud enough to suppress the noises of cascades. Couldn't hear the people who love me inside that mess. Feeding a baby all of sudden, I'm about to recognize...
That's the baby I cuddled under that fig tree; carrying tiny blue light on her eyelashes. Waves shutted down.
08/03/2026
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.