to man falling from unimagined state of grace

don't try to steal my body
which isn't mine to give
or yours to take
don't pull my hair
and push my belly,
mark my neck with teeth
too sharp, too fierce
that pierce the flesh
don't try to force me
into your perfect image, I am only me
and can only be me
I will not nourish your dying
and worship your dead.
about which kills me, I know little
you are that which kills,
and I am the life-bringer
but I will not carry your young
until you cease to destroy it

I stole the best line in this poem from another poem, but
that poet stole it from a bumper sticker, so I don't feel
so terrible. . .

writing home