No Love Lies Here

There seems a dried well in me, ancient woman,
Guarding and nourishing this stone village
Of skeletons. How dry. How dry!
I clutched my throat to the sun tongue
Sword thrust to taste rain in the atmosphere. What
Incredible thirst!

Nothing flourishes here and I am afraid
You would refer to this as another “daddy issue”
Textbook case. Open shut. Won’t you look at me? There
Has been no rain for years now and I’ve gone blind with thirst.
Look at me, tanning leather prostrate

Kissing deeply the earth of your feet, ants hurrying
In the cracks, all over this calcified baby. You want to take a
Closer look. My spine splits open, book falling apart
For your examination: no

There is indeed no love here. That is why
Here, there is no sound of stream, of birdcall, of trees
Stretching in their sleep. Nothing for your offering. Stop

Prodding, this is no place for love. You want an even
Closer look. So I, like a whore,

Peeled back white table cloth: here, lovely and rotting, my table legs.