culling song

culling song

i.

this house rings empty.



He
left the door open,
hinges cracked
in a scream of finality;

left
me -

reckless,
with room
for everything
but tears
and apologies,

and it wasn't fair.



ii.

I did not hate it then:

this child,
that lies translucent as the gills
a nurse pointed out
on the ultrasound;

no more
than a clot of cells
and budding tissue.

I
did not
hate it then.

but

oh god,

I hate it now.



iii.

I need a voice
thin enough
to peel images of this
from my memory,

sweep air
from its lungs,

and kill off
the last part of him


I
will ever
own.