Astral war

Stop it.
Your face is in my mirror.
Through the coffins
sunk into the ground,
We hear the cries
of their mothers
rip the twilight.
I watch from the ethers,
the tears,
the bloodshed,
nightmares on a feeding frenzy.

The ghosts in the hallway
are howling for their dinner.
The midwives are always
underestimated in a campaign
to silence the feminine.

My monster ate you whole,
and I said with a smirk:
You like it, honey
you can't lie to me.
Your wrists are open and envious.

And what if the traveling circus
knocks on your door,
demands your allegiance,
takes you to the metaphysical battlefield.
You ready?
Come on then.

- Megan