by Jasmine Flowers
Now to write a book of birth,
eighty pages edged with gold.
Now to crack back the ribs
to peer inside fresh lungs.
Now to scrape the cavities
full of meat and metal ends.
Now to spit into open hands
thronging the empty flames.
Now to let loose the wails
waiting deep in my throat.
Jasmine Flowers is a well-watered poet from Birmingham, AL. Her poems appear in River Mouth Review, Cypress Literary Journal, perhappened, and more. She is currently a poetry editor for Variant Literature. Find her at jn-flowers.com and @jas_flow on Twitter.