Eve

I always get the blame.

When nations fall and cities burn

they all leer at me

as though I held the torch 

and lit it,

gleefully.

 

I’m not a woman.

I’m a rat

creeping through streets, spreading plague.

I crease across pale faces, swell their aging bones,

and their homes;

I break them.

I’m the younger woman wearing his wife’s pearls,

the baby weight, the crow’s feet,

the crushing feeling of defeat when he picks another girl.

 

I live on empty apartment floors

with a bottle of shiraz

and a couple sleeping pills.

I have nursed a screaming child who will never know his name

from a breast that won’t give milk

in a dress that’s vomit stained.

 

I have birthed fifty billion daughters

who don’t believe I’m real,

who, in the absence of a mother,

seek validity

from fifty billion brothers.

Reviews

[i.am.the.sun.]

I really enjoy the second half of this and I think "I have nursed a screaming child who will never know his name// from a breast that won't give milk// in a dress that's vomit stained" just just incredible.
For the first stanza I would suggest clipping part of the second last line and attaching it to the last. like so:
As though I took the torch
And lit it gleefully.

You could also add another word in the second last line there, like "burning torch" or some such thing.

[Gary H]

Here's a thought... why not start the poem 'I live on empty apartment floors etc' and end it with 'the crushing feeling of defeat etc'. My feeling is that you don't want to reveal how your 'poetic self' until after you have revealed your first two stanzas... then you can '..get the blame' ... and 'not be a woman' when you have set the scene. I hope this makes sense! If not, check out some of Bubo's poems. Good luck

[aLittlePain]

I like this a lot, the voice is is kinda sweetly sinister as it unfolds...I quite like that. Such a sharp and unique write. R x