28 december 2020


Lord, do not confuse yourself –
I do not beg,
I do not plea.

This is not an advocacy for every feminine
that’s ever dreamt

of babies, this is
on me. You see,
this pelvic floor of mine –

Would you mind to peel the pressure, please.
I think it’s filled
with dying people.

Could I be made from steel instead
of flesh, could it be

broken people don’t bleed
to save humanity.

This monthly spoil –
is it to rescue all, is this why I
do not spill red as

every other woman
does, Lord,
help me please, help

What will I tell the eggs
that never hatch?

What can I say when they’re laid down in straw
without ever
touching their

mommy’s feathers.
My moon lies in the water,
me –

I see myself in her vision,
eyes deep
like craters.

– Malon