I cry like an animal. Mouth full of blood,
nerves boiled, strung up and sun-dried,
a raw terror terrified.
I am made sweet, laid down, carved out.
I seep through cracks beneath the floor.
I can’t be emptied anymore.
Still here, still breath and soundless
mind, without room, without a thought.
I am, I am
until I’m not.
And yet, bodies learn to rot, to grow –
I am the language of the earth
now, no man will speak my name,
or sow the ground that he has burned.
Taylor Mallay is a student currently residing in her Michigan hometown. She often finds herself writing poetry when the feeling moves her, or simply when she’s had too much caffeine that day. This is her first publication.