Cycle by Kellie Lyn Fournier I come from a moment of joy that was over the moment he sobered up I come from a kiss of death Medusa and her Black Widow have done it again I come from the whispers of a raven’s wing that told my ancestors to go back where they came from I come from ashes thrown to the wind and butterfly DNA my momma breathed in I come from the sacrifice and sweat of every woman fighting before me, through me I come from the blood of a thousand sinners pumped through the heart of a savior I come from the labor pains and tore flesh of thousands of vaginas before me, my mother’s, my grandmother’s, infinity I come from countless fairy tales that my mother read to me filling my head with language and turning me into a poet I come from words spoken to me of body and cancer and overtaken now my grandmother has moments to live I come from the desire for death from a feminist trap revisiting graveyards in a land of frozen corpses I come from the dreams that are whispered to me from each stone passing them to my son as he sleeps He comes from a moment of joy © 2001 by Kellie Lyn Fournier. All rights reserved. Home