The Pill

alliance between the knit of bones
within this meat-locker

they only know to rut, rut, rut.

one bitter revolution per pill
per night
a sacrifice of heaving hormones,
the tidal waves that once cascaded down;
the clear silver waves holding my hair, like seaweed, down

now, no feelings to speak of.
no babies either, but
sighs of relief.

nothing to create or feel or speak of,
until even i lose interest in myself.
no one's to blame for that.