Revelations

There’s a beast in my belly, so they locked me out of paradise. I circle outside,

search for a new entry; when I throw myself on the gates, the fence burns

   my skin.

Please, my tears freeze on my face. Weeks pass, and she moves from belly

to heart. With each pump, my blood purples, my teeth grow into sharp points.

On my knees, I scratch and dig, I growl. Let me in. I cut my own tongue on 

   a canine,

mauve the river ice at my feet. Months go by. My head aches with her, my 

   eyes reflect

back a snowstorm. I am coming for you. I shake the gates, I howl, I twist 

   and break

them open at last. Their fear has fed me, and I am warm despite the lack of 

   sun—

I make my own heat. When I am finished, I walk back out the gates—reborn 

   of ash,

I have crowned myself with antlers, and this world is my home.