IV

July 19th, 2020

Sometimes, I wonder

what do these dark eyes see.

The glamor of unclaimed innocence?

The fertility of virgin mounds?

What will they see

when the chest sags,

when the blood stops,

when the lips wilt?

What would they see

when the flesh inside

has one less arm or one less organ down there, or

stutters when speaking or simply cannot see the light of day?

Would I be

a witch for bringing the wrong one,

a murderer for birthing death,

or a hag for providing none?

Or would I be

an ingrate for refusing Nature's honor,

a heretic for breaking the laws of Nature...

... or a coward for fearing Nature's design?

Perhaps, I am simply a recreant, framing a good god.