She claws at my heart with an elephant’s tusk
and the image of the maggot no man can kill,
teasing from my soul marrow with a dentist’s drill
drawing me further into her hearth in light’s dusk.
She claws at my heart with a fork for manna
dissecting my nakedness on a platter too full,
bound wrists against steel feeling lips of cruel
twisting, cutting, tearing in a torturer’s manner.
She claws at my heart to see me underneath
drawing me out into a red blue shimmer
letting my blood dry like laundry in summer
under the cold glare of her sun, her white teeth.
Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15 or