Through the shadows of time,
the gleam of a seduced smile
is contorted.
I am undone:
My anchestry’s skin
pulled back like
layers of a bloodied petticoat.
A silky silver tongue
sharpened knife words
carve infamy into
wombs and kidneys.
A gleam, a glisten
a weiled scythe
harvesting sheafs of flesh.
Five bundles, stacked as victims
Instead of the stars
and spirits that they were…
unkindly scattered into the night.
I have transformed from hell
Layers of decades have washed
Recognition to resonance
Yet a demon dominates my mind.
I am pulled
to follow the trickle of red
from Whitechapel’s belly
And I consume it.
Unwillingly I have been
wrapped in the musk
of her soiled shawl.
And loved a man only half there;
alive by the beats within me.
Myself echoes from the shadows of time.
This history is mine.
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