HIPS

A POEM BY KATIE O’BRIEN

blood red fingertips of cold hands outstretched
cradling like the Virgin Mary with limp wrists
firm grasp
this is where I find myself
arcane strength to give and keep at once

 

aching persistent pain across my
lower back, just above my hips, deep-rooted
fear manifest. in the front I house my loveliest

(loneliness) confusion:
in these abdominals lust lingers
unexamined, unknown,
unreturned

hands now stretched to give life
force from strong wrists –
immaculate, decolonized, fucking flawless

 

Artwork © Catherine Williams

Malise RosbechComment