Creative Writing
YOU WRESTED ME
You wrested me
from mine
in the madness of a March month.
I acquiesced.
I ran from the conception
but you lay latent in me,
there
in every waking
and my torture had begun.
Cursing you,
I carried you
and mewled at every kicking.
It was a slow birth,
you said
I was elsewhere.
Now I feed you
intravenously,
for there are countless complications.
We have communion in pain
and even as you drink me,
I am the bread of your body.
JvN
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