Hooked
there’s a point in the center of my chest
that stings a little in a tolerable way
like a harsh bruise that has mellowed
to a murky yellow between my breasts
it might be spreading- I couldn’t tell
but it’s been sinking, burning through
and when I inhale the end of my breath
catches on the hooks its planted
deep long fingers into my cavity
tugging something loose
meat in the factory
and in dull pulse
it comes
free
👁 6💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.