Poem of the Week / Victoria Sanchez

The Land of Nod

This is our plan;
heavy eyes hold it down–
Safe, secure, and warm,
though all around the lights drown.

These machines,
blaspheming and bright
tear the bodies–
tear them limb from limb
all through the night.

Your voice soft and dark
tears into my skin.
And I remember where
we begin, where we’ve been–
sweet sin.

And we’re all Cain’s children,
because Abel was a dead seed, and
no one committed Seth to their memories.

White stones, sharp teeth,
the blood cries from the fields.

We’ve all been scattered
like seeds, east of Eden.

Victoria Sanchez

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