excerpt from the americ book of the dead

her body on a platform that filled the room / pallid / leathered skin of face / lower lip stretched up over the upper, sutured in place with a skinned twig / eyes sewn shut with purple thread

a mother lay with her new born infant on the floor / her being her / the newly dead / her, the mother / her, the child / three generations of the inevitable

a mother writhing and moaning / an infant on it’s back / wiggling / waving limbs like an upturned insect / trying its body / trying / to break free

thirteen / of us / lined against the wall / humming / facing her / a mother / the newly dead / a baby / humming an unknown frequency / forgotten tune

the prince of dark / a man unseen / behind a screen / preaching / lava / smoke

i am silent

midwife return / carrying an abalone shell / pink / green / blue / nacre / mother of pearl / chalice / water / drinking / offering / pouring

“they are born for your sins!”

i am afraid

she pulling me down to lay on top of her / the midwife / mourning the dead / the living

me straddling her / hands and knees on the plank wood floor / she reaching around my neck / pulling me down / heavy / between her legs / gravity / the weight of my body grinding / her writhing / hands exploring the contours of my jean-covered inner thighs / my ass / the seam along my perineum

the dark speaking softly / murmering / thirteen / of us / them / humming / me fighting against her / she, too strong / her consuming me

death born in the cellular body at the moment of conception

death escaping the womb / she who determines when the fighting commences / retreating / into our pre-birth mind

death a decrepit woman / stuffed / displayed in the americ museum of cultural anthropology

death a squirming infant, waiting to make sense of its place in the scheme of this / things

death a desperate orgasm achieved as a defense against time

death comes with / the midwife / she is the angel of it

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