Untitled – Kate Engler
March 6, 2018
I tried to tell him that my belly longs to be swollen belly baby belly
beloved belly/ birthing/ birth/ afterbirth/ belly
my gut aches; I am old; blooming and shriveling with the passing hours; stone
fossil and throbbing embryo.
Yearning swelling swollen vibrations- run too fast for too long
Ears throbbing underwater hunger beyond bread beyond sex everything slowed
under honey like poets promised. Mother have I known such love?
I tried to tell him that something as deep as the place I used to try and starve out
burns red-hot yearning and that I am scared. That I am slowing/ rooting/
that my feet are spreading over the earth. Tendrils twisting and possessing my gut in their
palms; creeping fingers coaxing my sleeping womb.
I want to run long legs daddy long legs horse legs dragon fly
I want to run through fields bug bites deer bones mice scatter
Bicycle under the moon teary beer eyed honey suckle orgasm
Truck stops; cheese and dry bread from our backpacks; hot coffee; draw pictures
on the back of our hands to show (them) the direction we want to go.
I cut the shape of a woman’s body out of thick paper with a razor blade
and dipped her in blue ink
press/ press/ pressed
over and over she has curves I don’t see in the mirror. She holds her head in her arms;
her large breasts hang low over her melon belly.
Will I ever have a melon belly moon belly
Swallow the moon.
I tried to tell him that I’m growing too fast; that my bones ache in the night like
they did when I was twelve-but then they grew taller and stronger and now they
grow in tight coils; becoming one with my mattress springs.
I tried to tell him I’m growing too fast and my skin is cracking open- watercolour
flowers- will I grow a melon belly? Swell and crack open like eggs boiled too long;
forgotten pot; cloudy water.
Crack open like the spreading wrinkles on my face.
And yes, I see as many ghosts as they promised me I would.
“Women and ghosts go hand in hand,” they said.
But hand in hand where?