Option A
Carve me into your back
and let me ride with you on your weird and
dilapidated horse into an unending sunset;
to be the flag of your martyrdom
and a child of burden.
Option B
Carve me into your back
and let me ride with you on your weird and
dilapidated horse into a conflicted sunset;
to be the source of your comfort
and a child of promise.
Option C
Carve me into your back
and –
fawwwwwwk.
your womb, it’s
Carve me into your womb;
to claw at the fire of labour, made
crazy by pain and the bright of your light,
to corkscrew
through the crust of the earth,
shattering the line of the sky – seeing
you,
I’ll see you.