Don't Forget Why Our Daddy Adopted the Killer
Hunting was his fun part
and she was probably
the most spiritually
like me, thin-tipped.
We got our bras fixed
and I tried to take pictures
of my polar pain
of my vapid pregnancy
the old roller coaster
our ritual sadness
two sisters the whip.
You promised to doctor
and sputter and starve me
under the beach-porch umbrella.
Artificial hunger was health-necessary
antifungal as sex.
I skirted the cold holy water
running pupaphobic saucer-eyed
on the woodline. I gathered
dead mint for the long birth
as you drizzled
my laboring back with hot wax.
