only the finest of china for this trauma
so i grab the best of my mother’s bowls
wash it twice with wine & honey
before chipping teeth on its edge
i draw water for the bloodbath
and plunge in the fruit of my under-ribs
with fingertips too water-plump
too wrinkled to remember their prints
because i put bars around this heart
dreamed them into citrus-fiber
ate my own self out & broke back in
only to be cold with love
purpled with bruising wounds
soaked through with wasted potential
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