in steel country, in coal country

daddy drove a truck and mama prayed

good girls laid on our backs; we crushed our wings

we let the machete of a slick man’s voice

clear cut the thicket of our wombs

we let the wet slick cries of a hungry thing

slowly drain the fire from our marrow

when we’re in the throes we’re yes girls

hitched up counter height now in a fuck me skirt

whispering god’s plan to silence the tempest

metastasizing in my barbie doll heart

how many hail marys before the grunting stops

oil stained fingers circling where the wings used to be

whiskey breath the dirge of hollow childhood dreams

blood blooming down my thighs – bruises are the new black

when we’re in the throes we’re yes girls

© 2019 Mela Blust

Mela Blust is a moonchild, and has always had an affinity for the darkness…