White Bones by Abigail Pearson

It was like a white ghost

Painted on her fingertips

On the table

Summer evening

Her skeleton was broken

She gathered her bones

In her skirt

White bones and

The head of her last lover collected next

To her womb.

My Womb is a Cathedral by Abigail Pearson

Speaking in Tongues By Abigail Pearson

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