You call me Eve when I am Adam
and the stolen/swollen cavity laments, out the funnel
of the womb and there
is breath and light
wind and bone
base of language
base of hurt
where you press your fingers to understand
And out funneling into light
I open my mouth to consume
the breath of stars that inhale
and exhale in the astrocyte
shaped scars on my side/rib
Inchoate Thoughts:
I would not have rather been born, I
I remember being born
Was Eve born?
Why does the man mourn?
And scratch at my ribcage
And he is naked
My unformed clay
And I say…
Words do not meet
And hunger as something
(for womb/for warmth/ for mouth)
To be accustomed to
In the billowing walls
Of womb
And the ex-stasis of an orgasm
from which I came
mouth/open wound/bloom
In the beginning there
was light, in the end:
The skin parts