Cruelty by Amber Decker

I always longed for a daughter
with hair like strands of dark licorice
bouncing on her shoulders.
Instead, I was given
a bowl of black blood
to flush away, tiny clusters
of cells like stars
without names.
I will never forget
my husband’s face
the night I told him
I sometimes prayed
for car crashes,
heart attack,
the burst blood vessel
in the brain, the call
that he would never
come home again.
He looked like the remains
of a turkey on Thanksgiving Day,
hollow, wishbone yanked
from its warm cradle,
snapped into pieces.
I was never meant
to mother anything but guilt;
I should not be left alone
with anything that breathes.

AmberDecker_photo - Copy
Amber Decker is a thirty-something poet and musician from West Virginia. She is a lover of comic books, horror culture, good wine, tattoos, and rock and roll. Her latest collection of poems, The Girl Who Left You, is available from California’s notorious Six Ft. Swells Press.



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