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mother of apocolypse<br />
by Courtney Leigh<br />
oracle<br />
the body lies flat—a slab of fat flowering into a cadaver<br />
the body is the world plucked by its severed fingers<br />
playing e part like the strings of an eerie harp<br />
veins & tendons threading between bone mound & ravine<br />
the body lies flat against the backdrop of a burning canyon<br />
suspended in air—angel in omen, eyes plucked out<br />
by crows perched high on her cankering cartilage<br />
the angel is the world being blinded by her fowl<br />
the angel is the body is the world being swallowed whole<br />
by flames rising tall through the hands of an aspen tree<br />
children of the body burn through to their screams<br />
the angel is the body is the world is the mother<br />
weeping from sockets to scarred navel & womb<br />
the body backslides into tumultuous ground<br />
losing dominion of its own little bodies<br />
violently clamorous in its own mournful song—<br />
the body is a drowning harpy bleeding over<br />
residuum waters in death-cycle—they claim her<br />
& bury her in the dark eye of the sea, she bloats<br />
& chafes off bitter pieces for the fish to eat.<br />
prophecy<br />
my hero dwells in the scroll of my skin<br />
her sculpted weapon, sweet lover’s hymn<br />
i hum between shoulders, i stutter between e hot beat<br />
pushing me further & further into the trembling earth<br />
her head spins between my thighs<br />
my voice carries softly into the night<br />
i will weep for her when she drifts into<br />
when death is inevitable, martyr is job title<br />
is a promotion into the next life<br />
i will weep when she drifts into the ravine<br />
my hero is spirit, dwells on the cliff side<br />
visits me in dreams—touches me w fire<br />
opens me up like a red flower to devour<br />
smoke clouds, my eyes swerve<br />
in & out of a black sky high<br />
i am opiated by her, i am stunned<br />
in a motionless distance of flames<br />
i come to & am Afterlife.<br />
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