Grief you motherfucker,
You robber of joy,
You thief in the night,
Stealing and killing.
Burning my village to the ground.
Grief, you backpack full of rocks,
You unrelenting burden I bear
Just when I think the weight has lightened, you get heavy again
Grief, you incessant mosquito buzzing in my ear.
You lingering bug bite, swollen and itchy.
Just when I think you are gone, you itch again
Grief, you scab,
You scaly piece of shit
A kiss on my skin I never wanted,
A reminder I never asked for.
Grief, you bastard,
You unwelcomed visitor that won’t leave,
Filling my home with rotten fruit and flies.
Drawing the shades and blacking out my windows.
Grief, you rapist,
I did not consent to you being here,
I did not consent to the constant envy of new mothers with new babies,
The envy of perfect families
The envy of those who have never known loss.
The deep ache of a mother’s empty arms,
I did not consent to this unrepairable womb,
You motherfucking cocksucker.
Jessi is participating in the class, Writing Our Own Histories.