You wrested me


You wrested me
from mine
in the madness of a March month.
I acquiesced.

I ran from the conception
but you lay latent in me,
in every waking
and my torture had begun.

Cursing you,
I carried you
and mewled at every kicking.

It was a slow birth,
you said
I was elsewhere.

Now I feed you
for there are countless complications.

We have communion in pain
and even as you drink me,
I am the bread of your body.