drawn back
at first cringing against the idea
so like an arrow made
to tear the sky when the sky
ought cocoon us
transformation cannot
: not if the unripe skin is
peeled like pudding, if bread
emerges from the oven too
soon and riseless, if she
was a she and never
old enough to say
enough
hunt
all you want, my dears
the children you don’t believe in
are starving
Amazing last line!
yes it ought cocoon us! (holy moly i go off to bed and the blog explodes with *even more brilliance*?!)
hunt all you want! oooo this poem