"Untitled"

I held your hand as you pulled me between the trees--
fetuses left to grow alone--their anorexic trunks slashed
and bleeding.
Your fingernails were rugged and worn, and your hands
left years-old bloodstains on my rusted, cold palms.

I had hoped it was all a dream, but I recall too much to believe
that I didn't see Hell in that midnight hour on ( Read more... )