Whitney Vale

UPSIDE-DOWN PEAR,

tilted toward my spine, Delphic oracle:
bloodied pear, alphabet of life

I’m to be hollowed out:
my dreampulse in its little purse removed

A Psalm speaks of the fruit as heritage
but my wounded opportunities were not born

my choice.

My belly is a snow globe filled with red memories drifting down:
unholy glitter shakes through my ruined field

I am afraid:
afraid the voice of my womb will have no further use for me

the temple empty and my words:
smoke and ash.