Mireille Eid
Perceptions
In the shadows of my limbs
I inhale
wooden figures
into my womb
and look at forests
blood
has turned into earth
Here
on the worn sheets
only rivers make their beds
I search
for the secrets
that rustle the air
and listen to my skin
peeling
I inhale
wooden figures
into my womb
and look at forests
blood
has turned into earth
Here
on the worn sheets
only rivers make their beds
I search
for the secrets
that rustle the air
and listen to my skin
peeling
©Mireille Eid