baby

when you sprang forth from her

did you have any idea

that your embattled mass

would be the proud flesh

she would hold in her arms?

that your life

was tied to her life?

that her life

was your life ?

that she like our sisters

all bleed in their beds

because all of our beds

are the same

and we will always

bleed in them

some of us

more than others

but we will always bleed

in them

there is with your breath

a battle cry

one that she labored for

that she pushed out

for your strength

baby, you were not born

you were birthed

and so on

and so on

– Sheila C.

of me

i follow your voice to the morning

and i rise with the small hairs

on the crook of your neck.

i stay there

and sit quietly

with your freckles.

they mirror mine

but i don’t think it’s strange..

someone must’ve

pulled us apart

before we were flesh.

– sheila c.

crooning

swelling reverb
shrill peaks &
rolling moans.
your languid arch
a hardened frame
though you remain
a sharp-
rarely softened.
mmm but
as interjections go
you are my favorite
my sweetest tone
my most precious
and most savor-ed.
indeed,
a hearty fill
so full and fastened
I am laid here,
crooning still
our bless-ed passion.

– Sheila Sea