The pale blue waters
of the toilet bowl. The roiling
red ringlet
of blood back when I bled.
That’s what I said:
when I bled
into the still
blue waters.
If I still
had daughters they’d take
over bleeding from me.
But here at the end
of the world,
my daughters
are dead. There’s only one
girl, and
she’s all in my head.
Structure
16 lines · 4 stanzas