Nesting

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Rotting nest of weed knotted
bile between my ribs:

Your underbelly scrapes my
upper belly and prods

my flesh thin.

I crawl into you, avian
crevice, and sleep where I

slept for five years: in
my failing core, black with

seeping humour and
premonitions of illness

and text.

I am your infant and you
rock me with your

violent edges,

clothed under square cut lace, trimmed
to the perfect translucence.

© Kyle Marie

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Kyle Marie

2,731 points

on 05/27/07 at 05:42 PM

wow thank you so much for the amazing compliment!
jillian

4,628 points

on 05/26/07 at 05:56 PM

i love this. reminds me of Sylvia Plath, somehow.  your structure is perfect! great piece.

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