The leaking nipple of a faceless mother
speckled like Cerillos turquoise
undulates through a polished universe
all ass and hip and dripping milk, she turns
her back on the expanse of space
watches Prometheus’ gift raze heavenly body
disarmed as her children launch
tampon-shaped rockets into the sky
feathery smoke grasping for lungs
a downy blanket of pollution
that drains the world of its color except
for the feverish red of destruction and flame.
Gabby Gilliam lives in the DC metro area. Her poetry has appeared in The Chesapeake Reader, The Fredericksburg Literary Arts Review, Tofu Ink Arts Press, and PoetryXHunger. Her words are forthcoming from Black Hare Press, and Mythos Poets Society.