I wake up everyday,
Aghast at the reminder
Of my infertility


My hands,
Once a fruitful garden,

Had luscious plums
Waiting to be devoured
at the tip of your
Salivating tongue

Always at your command,
I would birth endless waterfalls
For you to wash
Your weary face in,

I would build
The very staircase
You tread on
To find my bellowing heart
After your own
Has failed you

Together with dirt
And with sweat,
I mold into existence
The very ground
I will soon burn
Us on

I shape, with my own
Two
Worn hands,

An agonizing safe haven

In which you rest
Your burned body
Every night
Together with the
Dying
Sun
I
Am
Reminded



Of now
I am reminded,


 Of a barren field,

A sea with a never ending
Sunset,

I dissipate at every
Touch of light
I create a drought
Every time
I sneeze
I am engulfed by the shadow
Of tomorrow;
My roots crack and boil
Under my ruthless heat

I merge together
With the walls
In a frail attempt
To stay solid;

As the ocean beckons
For me to untangle
My veins and
Let my dying blossoms
Rot together with
The idea that I could
Ever give birth to
As many ripe plums
You desired