Who were the men who planted her voice
across their vast, brown, barren stories?
Scarlet, emerald and ink, her whispers -
smeared around the edges of nothing.
They told her that she’d been only a drum
they beat to feel the blood in their veins.
Who were the men who lit walls with her eyes,
and saw their houses come into being?
They bejewelled themselves wearing her hands -
who were the men who’d needed all the sheen?
She dwelled a persistent hum in their heads -
they belittled her, a God in their hymns.
across their vast, brown, barren stories?
Scarlet, emerald and ink, her whispers -
smeared around the edges of nothing.
They told her that she’d been only a drum
they beat to feel the blood in their veins.
Who were the men who lit walls with her eyes,
and saw their houses come into being?
They bejewelled themselves wearing her hands -
who were the men who’d needed all the sheen?
She dwelled a persistent hum in their heads -
they belittled her, a God in their hymns.
No comments:
Post a Comment