tahlia mckinnon

"BROKEN THUMBS"

pray, hold me like you used to as if i were the fruits of your womb, the salt of
the earth. we harvest our secrets; sweet and sticky like slick plum stains – words
swollen in our throats like broken thumbs. we start again; exchanging
silk and scabs and carpet burns as we sink into each other’s silence. dress in
the dark; exposing spines of rust and bone – i watch you shimmer, like a
streak of violent sun. oh darling, what have we become.