The Victory
I thought you were my victory
though you cut me like a knife
when I brought you out of my body
into your life.
Tiny antagonist, gory,
blue as a bruise. The stains
of your cloud of glory
bled from my veins.
How can you dare, blind thing,
blank insect eyes?
You barb the air. You sting
with bladed cries.
Snail! Scary knot of desires!
Hungry snarl! Small son.
Why do I have to love you?
How have you won?
Wow!!! This poem catches me off guard. This woman is blaming all her pain on her child. He is obviously a baby since he stings her with his bladed cries, hungry snarl. She thought after having him everything would be ok and he would be her pride but she thinks he is making her life hell. She questions why she has to love him, she wants to hate him. But he is 'winning' because he is getting her love without her wanting to give it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment