Ma ha shutai e Tuby e Tuby e Tu shutei A no en Tuby A sai, do mi no steikun
Halish di zi e A di shuta dia La dia Zhan who
There is a figurative gun to my head, rather than literal, and the decisions I make under its pressure are erratic and ill advised. The gun is made of language, both spoken and bodily, and the gun is held by the transmuted creature that was my mother. Her claw of a finger tightens as she screams, as she spirals out, and I keep my eyes down in holy fear. My Father who art not in Heaven, but in Egypt, sordid be thy name. I am Woman-child, God-child, but no child of yours. 06-29-2009 @ 12:39
