Читать книгу blud - Rachel McKibbens - Страница 8

a brief biography of the poet’s mother

There was

a child

hemorrhaging

light,

the blue song

of her brain,

an early maggot

writhing.

Her mother,

a jealous

newlywed,

with looking-glass

hands & a tub

full of bleach

thieved & thieved

until the child

became

a quiet room

a silence born

of interrogated

flesh.

Girl is the worst season.

Mother no guarantee.

No clothes or meat,

no heavy tit wrecked

with milk.

So the blue song

became a dirge,

then the dirge

became a girl.