Naptime pt. 1

Sleeping in the bowels of my mother
absorbing bile for nutrition.
A pulse of a vein
transmits blood through this cord.

Containing acrid liquid for growth,
Slurping greedily, blood clots colonizing
Materializing white cells into this tube
Uncompleted, leaves me cold.

Sipping obsessively, blood clots colonizing
The scalpel wasn’t quick enough, and
Uncompleted, leaves me cold
And sleeping in the bowels of my mother.
?
Naptime pt. 2

Marching in a hauntingly perfect line
they encircled me.
I cry, more for blessed pesticide.
“There ain’t no damn bugs. Take a nap.”
She has always lied.
I saw them, observed it all.
Now they touch my bed.
They enter my toes,
through skin meant to be mine,
and march upon my femur,
excavating my abdomen;

They are real.

Elevated whispers leave my vision blurred.
‘I feel them in my lung.’
I know
‘They want to take my air.’
She knew.
I ran to the barred doorway,
Whipping my neck, failing to shake those festering my brain.
Slamming my legs on cotton bars,
Exterminating webs wrapped around my calves.
They refuse to leave.
I see her watching.
She knew of the attack.
She struck me down:
“Take a nap.”