Smithereens Press Chapbooks SP8- Dordéan, do Chroí - A Hummingbird, your Heart | Page 37

Grandmother

You carried the egg that made me
in your womb, the whisper of a word
that became my world.
Now I stand at your funeral,
newborn nestled into my neck,
one eye on life, the other on death
as blood trickles down my thighs –
a crimson cry.

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