Words by Patricia Elwood
Content warning: gory imagery
“To the woman He said,
“I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing;
in pain you shall bring forth children.
Your desire shall be contrary to your husband,
but he shall rule over you.” (Genesis. 3:16)
My fingers cross my cursed chest,
Treading upon this path that carries
Across twenty-four mountains
And through twenty-four valleys.
They roam these wretched grounds,
And in this sickness, they become
Plagued by quaking tremors rising
From the chambers of my lungs.
So I press them firmly down,
Fingers curled with gaping maw,
Open my chest and part my flesh,
Which I find drenched in crimson raw.
Splitting apart the bars of bone,
Splintering the cage.
I grasp between my hands
The first rib, my origin of rage,
And unfurl my shaking palms,
Raise it up to gaze upon
The sticky glistening red,
Capturing the golden sun.
Tightening my grip again,
I grind it in my closing fist,
Brittle, crushed into a grit,
I offer it as though it is a gift
Unto this dark, awaiting earth,
That lies softly beneath my feet.
And with soil stains upon my knees,
I place the rib’s remains to meet
The seeds I sowed onto this land,
Whose hungry mouths are waiting
To feast on the fertilisation
Seeping from the curse you gave me.
And rise into the thriving trees
That turn to the first breath
Of my wild, angry garden
Brushed with an emerald spread
Where blushing petals bloom between
The gleaming leaves in shades of green,
That move and dance within
The wind, speaking in sighs
And gentle misty whispers
Upon their orange pollen eyes,
In the heart of apple blossoms
That soon will turn to fruit,
With flushing scarlet skin,
Feeding from the root,
Entwined with blood and bone,
Creating flesh so sweet and fair,
Dressed in morning dew,
Reflecting spring sun’s flare.
As saliva glitters on my teeth,
And catches the warm light,
I place the red between my jaw,
And bite.
