Little Death

by Judith Vollmer

She will rip some hair from your head
Pluck pearls from your spine
She will open you
She will knock your teeth out
She scrapes at your sweet meats
Her own vulva gone rancid
And last she will drain your tender
Eye sockets    prancing with your eyes in her palm
With them she’ll look around the universe
Seeing endless rings & spirals
For the first time

Your tendons    your bones
Sticks on the ground still working
Themselves in their mother tongue

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