anatomy of an altar

barrel of a shotgun loaded with poisoned prayers

let me put it in your mouth as a dare.

instead of hearing you speak the eaten bullet out loud.

isn’t it harder to digest when a woman refuses to take a bow?

already tasted the burnt metal of your blood branded onto my pearl skin.

bullet sprays turn into ricochets

every sailor wants to scale the siren to taste the fish

carve out the beaten voice box before scaling the tongue of ammunition.

childhood a game of rowdy russian roulette

watching your fingers dance

on the trigger edge of my innocence.

for what happens if i am made of the gunpowder myself?

i dare you to play the wildcard.

strap me to the pyre. 

let the bullet of my eaten innocence 

light my womanhood on fire.