Propagation

They cluster inside spread-
eagled legs, hands bone
wings, faces pleading,

hinged

on palms. I know them,
these people, their
atrocious need,

soured

breath of last night’s lust.
Still willing in the morning,
I relent for a puce

cheek,

uprooted pubic hair. Or,
occasional understanding.
I adore the life in them, more

truly

than mine; chiselled
from marrow, a blood-infused
platelet. How they dine to fill

belly’s

on propagation. Oh! hero.
Oh! Lover. Oh, desire
from consequence —

unwill me.

…

Maeve McKenna lives in Sligo, Ireland. Her poetry has been placed in several international poetry competitions and published in Mslexia, The Haibun Journal, The Cormorant, Galway Review, Boyne Berries, Sonder Magazine, Skylight47 and widely online.