By Raven Eliza Hodge

Death whispers, “when she’s awake it’s no longer rape”

My liver is just a sliver of what it used to be
My kidneys are just a figure of speech
And I’m a disease– a moribund creature
An extinction
A double feature
It’s not about what I render, but what I see in the splendor
Even my death surrenders
Under cooked
Under fed
Cor cordium
A bloody bed