Epic of the Six Darknesses: III
III
No time before
the second darkness is upon me
wet like a white tear
quiet and soft
but dark as mother’s fig nipples
and swollen like eyes are swollen
when tired of the light.
I take this fig into my mouth
suck the mudmilk from its pith
dark milk filled with muck
this is where despair comes from
this black seed planted so long ago
I had no choice I had to suck
But then the breast ballooned inside of me
I took it deep within me
down into the depths it went
it coated my insides
like the secret maths of forever
it puddled in my lungs
alveolar sacs full of breastflesh
I learned to breathe the darkness in
Now when my blood pumps
it is nourished by the breast darkness
not oxygen but milk
my body learns a new way to survive
cells are rebuilt from scratch
based on the chemistries of breastmilk
each one now has little lips
my veins are filling with milk now
And so this darkness writes its poem
with my body.
Richard Smyth
Posted over on Anabiosis Press
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