Tuesday, January 18, 2011

15/31

I'm ready to talk about creation.

Actually, let's not talk about Humanity
because that's easy.
A spirit person slayed another
and we sprouted from her blood.
And something about foam and teeth
(planted like seeds)
and something like
an ever expanding, soon to be collapsing infinity.
Right?
So, not that.

Creation, like, the breaking apart of my femur
and sucking out the marrow,
both red and yellow, and
allowing two single cells to grow
tucked away inside my blood
and inside my foam.

I don't care about humans, as a whole,
just a tiny one.

3 comments:

berry said...

AHHH! The end knocked me right out. I love it. Keep keep keep writing! Love you.

bunniestown said...

baby,
i really liked your poem but you'd better buy some hiking boots, cause we can't have a baby. marrow or no.

erica said...

thanks, berry :)


baby,
can we please hike the AT? cause this sounds like you wanna. i wanna! promise me