Fertility
Cut open, each layer another year,
time hides
in her rusting flesh cage.
Wrinkles
inside, an exposé
of age from
imperfect circles.
Timber
swells, tower built
towards the
sun. Tan breasts flush,
carnation
womb blooms
at human
touch, avocado
ovaries
ripe, alive. Picked
by thieves,
no chance to survive.
Fruits rot
from the outside in,
an almost
corpse cortex seeping blood,
a live wire,
roots leaking time, life’s crown.
Hands flail
like grass in the wind,
drying
russet, catch the lace
edged leaf
before it falls down.
© Caitriona Hansen
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