Prenumbal Bleed

peeling my skin
of indecision
feathers brushing
a slight incision
where fear enters in
etching her blame
on arterial ways
and reason begs for its escape
she grins and weaves
the shuttle in
tales tell and lies spin
cracking binding on my shelves
stories of fragmented selves
and as my moon’s
rouge belly swells
orgasmic catastrophic
bars the gates
of hell

M.G. Iannucci 2020
Art by Silas Toball

Some parts of me are alluringly left to mystery.