Gore

It is not involving or showing violence and bloodshed 

yet  

we perform the deed away from the profound disapproval of men, 

the disgust, 

as if they too did not suckle from  

Mother’s breast.  

 

The idea has been disseminated on the minds of our culture, 

 watered and grown;  

my breasts are not covered or marked with anything unclean, 

grimy, grubby or filthy, 

but a vessel in which I carry the pure substance of my love.

 

Yet,  

it is a tragedy,  

the murder of love,  

when the mendacity stretches across the lips of the smiling women, 

the ones without the burden of filth, 

when they lilt the men don’t want to hear the gory details 

of my nursing. 

face baby
Photo by Rasmus Svinding on Pexels.com

 

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