The Lord Shut Up Her Womb

The Lord Shut Up Her Womb

She wept and became familiar with starvation; Fertility was too much to ask for, Had she been the one to sin enough That her prayers be only whispers? In the ear of God her voice Easy to ignore, fun to pity

Woven was her cervix She had become a prison Filled with blood, bone, flesh And the unspoken glory Meant to extend through kinship. Such a divine exchange Can never bring her pleasure Nor produce a being to make such torture of worth

She was a whore So far from a virgin, it was sickening. Her legs had grown tiresome and cold; She had grown barren and woven shut. Pray as she might, Her womb would remain starless And her body be stuck in the night.