“Death decides it is hungry”
for her stained slip, raw wrists,
mangled fish gills gasping, gaping,
glittered with red slime. (Every time
she grabbed handfuls of air
like invisible rungs. She tried
to hoist herself up, but
he grabbed handfuls of hair;
yanked her down again again again…)
for her stained slip, raw wrists,
mangled fish gills gasping, gaping,
glittered with red slime. (Every time
she grabbed handfuls of air
like invisible rungs. She tried
to hoist herself up, but
he grabbed handfuls of hair;
yanked her down again again again…)
from a poem within "The Laura Poems" by Juliet Cook, temporarily available again in the Blood Pudding Press shop.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment