God shrieks behind a canopy of wisteria,

there is blood in her mouth

and on the tips of her fingers.

The air smells of meat

and moist cement.

My heart completes each sentence

with an ellipsis.

I enter the garden,

a child ruined by expectations,

a child overlooked.

The trees are uninhabited,

their frail fingers flexed

toward a crescent moon.

The leaves cackle

beneath my boots

their veins thin as hair.

The sky is remade

by the passage of clouds overhead.

The devil is neither above nor below

I am hungry but the worms

have picked the flesh clean from all the fruit.

I sow the castoff seeds into my bones.


3 responses to “Creation

  1. Lots of hugs and good thoughts Yves ….

    glad that you’re using your words to help you work through some of the harder aspects ….

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