All Drowned Out

Before I was a girl, I was an aged crone.

A wise and withered ghost;

exhaling all my years,

deflating at the front.

Before I was a girl, I was a man.

I was with power and esteem

and honor.

I spoke and planted thoughts

for bloom.

Before I was a girl I was an afterthought.

A consequence of pleasure

and an object,

weighted by sin.

Before I was a girl

I was black and blue,

a baby soft with hot, hot irons.

A fire breathing, slow witted

pillowcase strewn with

last night’s face.

Before I was your girl I was your mother.

I hung like bells calling you to tea.

I hung like heads,

leadened with shame.

And I gazed at you with hate

like love,

and tucked you into sleep.

When I was no longer a phantom,

I was a form.

Moving fast as light,

a rhythm in your chest,

the spindle pulsing to 2,2 time

plucking and pulling the thread

to harden the heart.

Before I was a girl,

I was aged by my heart.

But now I am a child,

born from a jealous mouth

nothing ever more.