when did you
step
into my life?
it was a grey day, cold and
wet,
I remember. I looked out of the window at the
birds
in flocks like peeling
paint
and I saw
you standing
outside.
somehow I sucked you
through the
pane
and enveloped you
within my womb.
you found safety there in
the sweet
darkness;
I learned to subsist on your
cries,
to feed off your
pain; your weak ineffectual
murmurings
were my lifeblood.
I rocked you in wood and
living flesh,
and fought with your leaden
soldiers;
you surrendered to
me early on, your body
pale and
shaking.

this house is now burned
out,
a charred and blackened
ruin;
and as I
turn to the window once again
and
look out
I see one dark and ragged
bird
detach itself from the
flock and
plummet into the
sea like some deadly
missile.

I will still hate you when the
sun dies and the
sky
falls in.