Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Eighteen Winter 2008 |
Before I Was Born Kyle Hemmings Mastodons thumped across the earth King Ei brandished a sword in the Garden of Ninevah, winters were long, promised a Black Death, corpses in the street. Heathcliff wandered the windy moors silent as his passion for forbidden fruit. Before I was born there were no clocks My mother told me how I began: she enticed a man to dinner, then later growing in her womb through the rich walls of the uterus I heard someone making a sound: Gravitas? Preterm? Within the space between nurses' shrieks, I was ejected into a world of incubators and timed feedings. From there my true personal history starts: Forever I would be reaching out, trying to grasp what I could never hold. |
About Kyle Hemmings |