by Linda Numagami
Written for Poetry Workshop (LARTS 334, Fall 2013)
one out of four taken
won out of your foreplay
won out of the womb
the Womb worn out from the abuse
from the patriach
He patted the womb, from there the patriach is born
what has in part born me has worn me
as a trophy, a gem, a daughter
porcelain frame crunched to the limited wall
its spectral being, vastly dimming.
pastel bloodless lips—flimsy and broken now
Her neck cannot take.