Poem
Eliza Griswold
BEDBUGS
BEDBUGS
BEDBUGS
In the Bedouin’s foam mattress,a bedbug mother tips back her baby’s chin
and pours my blood down his throat. You wrote
in all my wandering I risk my chance
to give birth. That’s hardly true. All over
the earth, I’ve fed my flesh to bugs.
That’s some kind of mother for you.
© 2007, Eliza Griswold
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Poems of Eliza Griswold
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BEDBUGS
In the Bedouin’s foam mattress,a bedbug mother tips back her baby’s chin
and pours my blood down his throat. You wrote
in all my wandering I risk my chance
to give birth. That’s hardly true. All over
the earth, I’ve fed my flesh to bugs.
That’s some kind of mother for you.
BEDBUGS
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