the cave of labor has two entrances

I smoked, not knowing. I rode a bicycle to fletch my legs. I laughed at knives, at tribes sharpened to the exile. O, you again, they said, my entrails turned out for inspection. Omens of the flesh in fetal fur that turns to iron-grey. I did not know that arrows penetrate lanugo. I did not comprehend the white bones burning on the altar. My womb a hero, wandering toward sentience

Kathleen Hellen’s latest collection is The Only Country Was the Color of My Skin. Her credits include two poetry chapbooks, The Girl Who Loved Mothra and Pentimento, and her award-winning collection Umberto’s Night.  For more on Kathleen, visit https://www.kathleenhellen.com/