Strands
You wanted to pluck a bunch of strands
Off my head
Inside a vacuum explodes the space
Outside it hurts
My earths of hurt roll out into the air
Estranging me
Compounding like metastasis
The breeze does not balm any longer
The drizzle does not calm the fever
That wraps me like a blanket
I hum and harm
Humorously
Who but myself
Prayer
I pray to no god now
But to you
Multiply your latent strength
Like the bar-headed goose
Let no one dare prick your bubble
Live life as though
It’s your last claim to breathing
Death waits right after the moment
Woman, you can make history
Your baby
Give birth to a time in your uterine space
That will in turn hold
The weight of your presence
Stretch the marks of your lower abdomen
If necessary
Tear the entrails out
Put it back and stitch it
Like the maker you can fit
The intestine back to shape
Pray, you design!