Infanticide

I always knew the strength of my mother�s hand.
Limp-lipped, she laid me down on a clearing of soft dirt.
In between my thighs, she carved a small bowl in the earth.
I tried to close my eyes as my mother, purring, put her
Cool, soft hands on my stomach.
The men were out hunting that day.

Large leaves covered and uncovered the sky above me.
A quick thrust of my mother�s fists into my abdomen
Like she was kneading a great feast of dough.
My shoulder blades lifted me sharply off of the ground.

My insides roiled with discomfort as she squeezed harder,
The soft rocks of her hands pushing down on my forbidden mass.
The pressure in me pushed back against her pounding palms
Hardened by years of harsh winters and long harvests.
I filled my fists with soil, dug my fingernails into the earth
As the pulses quickened and my center began to burn.
It felt as though my mother�s fists were suddenly reaching
Through my taut stomach, through my womb and out.

I bled too, as they bled it by the river,
Scrubbed its skin with sand until it was white as a fish,
Picking apart its flesh with their fingers.
It was not human, and we did not mourn or regurgitate
Its meat back to the ground from which it came.

Reviews

[Rcamara]

ok, so WTF, you act like you can't write that well. I don't think ive read something that vividly powerful in awhile. Plus, with the talent there is a solid learned background which most work i review is lacking. Bravo.

I loved:
Large leaves covered and uncovered the sky above me.
But as i loved it i also wanted mroe out of this; could you have made this a stronger more vivid sentance or even mor ethen one, i was feeling the voice but not seeing its enviornment as much as I NEEDED TO> i wanted more from this, you have something here now i demand that power and creation be brought to fruition.

As always,
Travis

[G. Cedillo]

dear lord, this is powerful - what can i say, its a great poem with such a crystal clear and lazer word-image, the emotions are conveyed telepathically, no need to give us all that extra nonsense, you write like a painter - thank you.
the line, "The men were out hunting that day", I'm just curious - would that work better elsewhere? its not too important, it works there, but i don't know if it would be a better contrast somewhere else... you can play with that idea - like i said, not a big deal.
this ending:
"I bled too, as they bled it by the river,
Scrubbed its skin with sand until it was white as a fish,
Picking apart its flesh with their fingers.
It was not human, and we did not mourn or regurgitate
Its meat back to the ground from which it came."
its clear what you're doing here, but i think it'd be best if you left the scene up to the hunter's and only in the end add that all too important "we" -- making the line "we did not mourn or regurgitate" the ending lines -

awful and powerful, brutal but so sincere and heartbreaking, thank you for sharing this, i'll be reading more - g./