to bear life from within you
to let it rip you apart from the inside
out, tear through your flesh to escape
into a world more chaotic than your mind.
to hear it cry desire for not seconds,
minutes, not hours, but for days, weeks,
years. they make it sound so easy
but if it were them, they’d be scared
witless at the thought of having pieces
of their body chewed off, bloodied,
fearing contact as soon as life’s stomach
rumbles. The angelic sweet smile
like the devil’s smirk, waiting for you,
beckoning with the curl of a dainty finger,
and when you fall for its trap, the small
curve crescent of its nail sharpens, digs,
into your already marred flesh, already tender
heart, already bruised mind, already left soul.
It is a siren’s call.
It is a banshee’s wail.
It is a grandmother’s dream.
(Editors’ Note: “A Siren’s Call, A Banshee’s Wail, A Grandmother’s Dream” is read by Erika Ensign on the Uncanny Magazine Podcast, Episode 54B.)
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© 2023 Ai Jiang
