the man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate… - Anne Sexton

No. Not really red,
but the color of a rose when it bleeds.

Now I am going back
And I have ripped my hand
From your hand as I said I would
And I have made it this far ...

With a tongue like a razor he will kiss
the mother, the child,
and we three will color the stars black
in memory of his mother
who kept him chained to the food tree
or turned him on and off like a water faucet
and made women through all these hazy years
the enemy with a heart of lies.