there is milk beneath this poem

there's milk beneath this poem, and blood
aswirl, like a marble cake of moments half-baked;
there's blood beneath this poem, and tears
unmixed like oil in a rain barrel of thoughts;
there's tears beneath this poem, and come
awash with a million squirming attempts to awaken;
there's come beneath this poem, and the sea
unforgiving, with its undertow of fears, unknown and unsought.

there's milk beneath this poem, and silent screams
unheard for years and moments, draping the hallways;
there's silent screams beneath this poem, and mad laughter
adrift in the corrridors of the family myth, undone;
there's mad laughter beneath this poem, and choking sobs
unmoving in my throat, like a chicken bone, unloved, always;
there's choking sobs beneath this poem, and gnashing teeth
awash with the bitter taste of sweet defeat, like bile, or yesterday's onions.

there's milk beneath this poem,and time
like the blank white page before me;
there's time beneath this poem, and space
where the emptiness is reborn as room to move;
there's space beneath this poem, and thought
rumbling like the very voice of god himself, imploring that
there's thought beneath this poem, and all
is like nothing else, so much as the need to love;

there's milk beneath this poem, and all
the death on earth can't change that.