Babygrave
by Jill Mceldowney
The city takes &
I am tired
of drinking over the counter drugs
to try & avoid it.
Embalming fluid contains chemicals that cause psychosis
& who am I kidding?
I am praying
again—to questionable men in questionable cars
to their dogs
bred for silence.
Do you want me enough to—
give me that pleasant sensation
of internal bleeding.
The dog fights—listen—
these are my prophecy.
& the city is devouring itself—
the way you taught me
the similarities between an exit wound & a dogbite,
and how quickly a person can exsanguinate.
That means bleed to death.