Lavinia!

I feel hypothermic.
All the mothers I know
had wombs ripped out.
I'll learn I promise the
words again I promise
don't know who
I'm speaking to
but I'll bash my skull
on the asphalt for it,
go spread my face,
mush it in grit.
I open my arms
like Jesus Christ,
choke on my own spit.
Squinted eyes, see
a mourning ring
hoop of gold around
the electric light,
a skipping beaten band
thrumming our mass,
a whittle of physic,
a bleat.