The Rib

Like cuneiform script, primitive
and crude, we are women, like
arabic text, beautiful yet difficult
to decipher. When a woman accepts
a man, she is cut-in-half, clipped
winged and balding. Her heart becomes
a cigarette, glows brighter, poisoned
with each breath. The proverbial rib
she borrowed is the trigger of a trap,
lured by hunger, at best, she's killed
quickly and bloodless.

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