Poetry
Published on August 22nd, 2022 | by Sarah Ray
0You Nearly Took Me With You
For Lily
Dear Lily, I never did smell your head, as I did the soft blond locks of your brother’s and soon the auburn strands of your sister’s crown. In your death, you nearly took me with you, Lily. You wrapped my body in ropes of unrequited hope. You choked out a life I loved. You left me lying there, lifeless for days, a stranger wiping my ass and petting my hair while I borrowed lakes of blood from good Samaritans.
You selfish soul, you lifeless being no bigger than a doorknob– now rest in that urn on my desk. I used to carry you in that tiny urn between my breasts, nestled under the necklace a woman told me to buy because it would represent how much I love you.
You foolish soul. I carried you in my womb but ended up begging blood from strangers to save my life from your unformed hands. just to survive the idea of you. While the blood was trying to save me; you were trying to drown me in it. All warm and nestled there between my breasts– breasts that tried (those idiot cows) to feed your urn.
(photo on the left from the author’s collection; photo on the right by by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash)