Bloody Commodity

Reads: 145  | Likes: 2  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

There are oil wells in our blood cells

Real estate on our organs

Burial plots in our hearts

We can hear the kneading

The massaging us into comfort

And the for-sale signs driving their stakes in


I’m seeing more RVs in driveways lately

There is “pray” written in chalk on the sidewalks

There are power lines hanging from crosses along the highways


We can hear the explosions on our skin

The fracking of our blood to the surface

The shaking in our sheets after awaking from a dream


Our eyes are bloodshot & blurry

Our voices are raw & reaching a fever pitch

Our skin is afire & itchy from the kneading


We pluck the dynamite from our follicles

We lift the for-sale signs from our organs

We unhinge the pumps from our blood cells


We find power lines interlaced between are fingers

We extract them from our skulls like piano wire


I’m seeing more tiny homes lately.

There is “stay” written in chalk on the sidewalks.

There are fireflies lighting our way in the darkness.

There are humans filling burial plots with soil for their gardens.

Submitted: September 07, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Roxanne B.. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


Sharief Hendricks

What a deep piece of work Roxanne.B.

All we do is take ...take ...and take ..ugh !

Loved it !

Mon, September 13th, 2021 10:22am

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