SHE

She

She never stopped

hasn't stopped

she'll run till her soul collapses

jelly like her liver

She swung her hand

like a broken ceiling fan

the light blinking on and off

with every spin

She'll shoot the words out

of her painted red mouth

a bloody, crampy vagina

crusting and scratchy

like unchanged underwear

She grew middle-aged

while I grew up

now she grows old

and I fall over the hill

She left

I ran

but not far enough

so I'll use the umbilical cord

to my advantage

she'll fall into the noose

she meant for me

She's stopped

April 18, 2016

National Poetry Writing Month 2016

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