What’s done is done
The Thane of Fife, had a wife, where is she now?
I wonder what it’s like to be dead
wonder if he touches my flesh
will it feel the same?
I try to remember but cannot
remember his hot ties of affection
thought it would be easy
to unsex myself
screw my courage
into the vacuous
business of men
Oh this murky business
that creeps day by day
filling my breasts with vinegar
emptying my womb
of its junk
At first it creeps under your arms
stings like pins and needles
Next you cannot bend to pick
poppies sprouting from your hips
as they reach to flatten each breast
inverting
each nipple into submission
Last thing you hear is your
frightened womb escaping
as your features
wrinkle loose skin sags
leaving your hands free
for the black night
and bloody water