my hands harvest
like my aunt taught me
like women
open and offering
like my aunt taught me
first
the knife and now
skin brown and shaking
split the rind
each seed as if
it is waiting to be born
*
my hands nudge
bulbs out of wombs
the bowl wanting
gathering
**
signs of life
women recognize:
bursts of blood
a failed excision
(the coaxing)
fingers
brown and shaking
(the drip)
turning
sticky
and sweet
and going back for more
***
tears run
from under my chin
like women
work
to fill each crevice
as they are emptied
****
pink is the color
of watered-down blood
is the color
of white counter stains
the way
to a leftover body
like women
half-ravaged
gutted and torn
is this
what makes a mother
******
the sink will stay magenta ’til
morning after I have slept off
someone else’s
daughter’s tears
*******
jeweled remnants
pattern
endometrium left
veined and paper thin
like something from the sea
like bleached coral
of a ruined reef
like women
shell
cracked open
edge caught
with bits of pink anemone
